Back on Track
by The Lighthouse
Summary: Raven thought her story with Malchior was done and over with. Little did she know it was part of something much bigger, richer, and more bizarre than she could have foreseen. RavenxRorek
1. Chapter 1: Rewind

**Back on Track**

 **Chapter 1. Rewind**

Raven was grateful for her friends. They encouraged her to get out of her comfort zone, and altogether made her a slightly less brooding person than she otherwise would have been. Without their nagging, she wouldn't get half the life experiences she got on a regular basis, and most days, she was deeply thankful for them.

Today wasn't one of those days.

The boy in front of her –she refused to think of him as her date- had not stopped talking since the moment they met. Raven had been treated to a dissertation of his life: his friends, his hobbies, his part-time job—he had even touched on his elementary school grades.

She was entertaining herself with a little experiment, in which she refrained from nodding or acknowledging his monologue in any way, and saw how long he would go on before catching on. So far, Raven was the only loser, because this had been going on for a good fifteen minutes.

Even at introductions he hadn't let her get a word in, because of course he _already_ knew who _she_ was, and did she know she had actually saved his life, _twice_? And the first time was this funny business where his friend Jeremy had wanted to check out these mysterious self-moving giant chop cups, so _that's_ why they got caught in the middle when Mumbo tried to hold up the jewelry store.

She had been too overwhelmed to interrupt him back then, and now it was too late.

Was there some sort of protocol for when a date went awry? Was there some way to get it across that you wanted to go home? Raven found herself wishing she had paid more attention whenever Starfire read dating stories from one of her magazines out loud, in her slow solemn English that almost made it seem like those magazines had something interesting to say. As things were, the only options that occurred to Raven were either to bear it till the end, or to stand up, tell him she didn't like him, and leave—she knew no in between.

She was cursing her friends for putting her up to this for the hundredth time, when she realized that the boy had fallen quiet and was looking at her.

"Um," she started, realizing with dread that he must have asked her a question. Afraid of inadvertently agreeing to something, she went with, "No."

"Really? Oh man! I can't believe you've never skied before! It's the best!" he exclaimed, but he sounded more glad than disappointed.

Realizing the floodgates of conversation were open, she tried, "We got caught in a snowstorm once."

His eyes widened, and Raven held her breath. Maybe this much had gotten through to him. Maybe this time he would actually ask about her.

"Well, last year, I was at this bus stop with my friend, and it started snowing…"

Raven slumped back into her chair.

Salvation came suddenly, in the form of her communicator going off. "Come in, Raven," came Robin's voice from within her cloak.

She answered faster than she ever had. "What is it?"

"We need you on the outskirts. I'm sending you the location." A second later, a map appeared on her screen, with a red dot flashing.

"Be right there."She put the device away and got up without sparing a glance to her companion.

"Um, hey," the boy said, sitting up straighter. "So you wanna leave me your number, or…?"

"Starfire has your number." She put her hood up, took a second to detach herself from the relief and joy she was feeling, and phased to the place of disturbance.

Appearing in the middle of the street, Raven immediately got the scent of magic. The enemy was about a couple dozen figures clad in rather cheap-looking dark red robes that obscured them from head to toe.

One of them snuck up on her left, so she whipped around and threw a kick on instinct. The Robe was set back, and Raven levitated backwards, distancing herself from her foe. "Azarath Metrion Z-!"

She saw the glint of metal and a flash of blue light, and then she was catapulted back, with the force of her own power. " _Another witch!_ " she distinctly heard someone shout.

As she tried to grasp whatever had just happened, three Robes advanced towards her. Before she could react, a new figure got in between her and the Robes. With a strange feeling of dread, Raven watched the stranger raised his arms above his head. White energy formed around his hands and molded a beam between them, and something clicked in her brain.

 _Malchior_.

The realization hit her like a punch in her gut. She managed to neutralize her emotions enough to phase out of sight.

"Stand back!" one of the Robes shouted. "We are not against superheroes, only witches!"

"Yeah! We're here for the warlock! Not aliens or robots or-or… whatever _you_ are!"

" _Excuse me?_ " Raven heard Beast Boy's indignant voice from afar.

Robin shouted back, "You mess with the city, you mess with us!"

Raven had pulled her mind back to the battle. Taking a cue from her previous experience, she didn't try to use her whole mantra on these enemies. She stayed hidden, because she was able to sense now that these enemies were only human, and if they couldn't see her they couldn't repel her power. She relied on short bursts of power—blasts of telekinesis to connect their heads to blunt objects and patiently take them out. Once or twice she knocked heads together. And when she could, she stole glances at the stranger.

The strong first impression was quickly dissolving. She came to wonder why that name had even occurred to her. Any way she looked at it, she didn't know the man randomly fighting alongside them. The tall stranger in white armor was someone she had never seen before—not really, not in this life. And yet…

She watched him strike against the Robes with short bursts of white energy.

…There was something too familiar about him. The inkling in her mind was too strong to ignore.

Some things were different. His hair did reach his middle back –the illustration in the book had shown her as much. But that same illustration had shown her white hair, and this man's hair was black. The book had gone to lengths to describe his armor; made of stuline steel and laced with protective spells, with his initial lacquered in black on the chest plate. At the time of reading that, Raven had imagined an 'M'. This man's armor presented an 'R'.

 _So, Rorek, I guess_ , she thought sardonically, half convinced she was going through a mental breakdown.

The one part she hadn't needed to imagine was exactly the same. Those icy blue eyes that had looked at her from the pages of a millennia-old book suddenly turned to her, and were still holding the gaze after Raven instinctually disappeared in a swath of black energy.

Beast Boy shook off the last unconscious foe off his dinosaur form and returned to being human. "Well, that was… fast. Pizza now?"

"What even was these guys' deal?" asked Cyborg.

"That's what we're going to find out." Robin's eyes went to the stranger.

Whatever reverie the mage had been lost into after he met the gaze of the dark girl, he snapped out of it when he saw the other Titans approaching him.

"Thank you for your assistance," he told the team, bowing his head. "I couldn't have fended them off if you hadn't come to my aid."

"No problem. It's what we're here for," replied Robin. "So. Who were those guys? What did they want from you?"

"They were witch hunters. And they wanted me killed, I presume."

"Soo, you're a witch, dude?" asked Beast Boy, narrowing his eyes at him.

"'Wizard' would be more precise", he responded cordially.

"Do you know if there are more where they came from? And what-" Robing stopped short and looked around, "Did Raven ever get here?"

"I'm right here," she said, appearing beside the group.

The changeling perked up at the appearance. "Rae! How did the date go?" He got a furious glare in return, and backed off several steps. "Uh, never mind, you can tell us later."

Looking like he felt out of place, and probably embarrassed at listening into personal affairs, the wizard told Robin, "I will tell you everything that might be useful against these foes."

Starfire floated to the front of the group. "Please, what is your name?"

Raven held her breath.

"Bertram," said the stranger. "Bertram of Miir. At your service."

* * *

After the wizard introduced himself, Robin had tried to do the same for his team, only to find out the newcomer already knew who they were.

"Teen Titans, protectors of the city," he had said. "Your fame precedes you."

Now, he sat on their couch as he told them about the villains they had just faced.

"The hunters you saw are only part of the group– forgive me," he said suddenly, and yanked down the scarf that covered his mouth and nose. "I don't know if the rest will come on the trail of their companions, but it seems likely."

Robin nodded along, pacing the floor. "What I need to know is, what are their plans? Who are they targeting? Are they trying to set up a modern witch trial?"

"I would think so, yes," Bertram responded. "They are against magic, and seek to wipe out all its users. I sincerely believed they would no longer be around in this time period."

Robin stopped pacing. "Right. We're gonna have to question the ones we caught. And if they have any plans for this city, we'll stop them."

Cyborg laid a hand in Robin's shoulder. "Tomorrow."

Robin looked at his team's tired faces and only then realized it was late. "Tomorrow," he agreed. He turned to the newcomer, who was easily in the worst shape out of all of them. "So. You're not from around here. I don't suppose you have a place to sleep."

Bertram turned bashful all of a sudden. "I-I beseech you direct me to the nearest inn, and you shall rid yourselves of me."

Starfire sprang up from the couch and into Bertram's face. "Nonsense! We are able to offer you a place to sleep, and we shall!"

Cyborg appeared behind him. "Yeah, c'mon, we'll show you a room." He started pushing him out of the room, as Beast Boy jumped up and ran after them.

"Yeah, and maybe tomorrow you can tell us about how you got here," added Robin to the retreating group.

The wizard cranked his neck to look back at him, suddenly rattled. "Oh! Uh, it is a boring story, really. Not much to tell," he said before he disappeared into the hallway.

Robin watched after the four. "Riiight," he said, beginning to regret offering the tower up so easily.

He wanted to ask Raven what she thought of Bertram, but when he turned around he found her long gone.

* * *

Raven listened as her teammates and the newcomer walked past her room and stopped in front of a spare one, down the hall after Robin's room. She heard them hang around for a while, talking and joking, before each went their separate ways. After a while, Robin came down as well.

Once she was certain each person was settled in their respective room, she phased to the kitchen. Tea was _imperative_. She pulled out her cup, teabags, and put the kettle on the stove in an automatic sequence, and leaned on the counter as she waited for the water to boil.

She couldn't be sure it was him.

If anything made _any sense_ , it wasn't him.

A part of her was telling her she should at least let Robin in on her suspicions. But what would she even say? The newcomer looked exactly like the person she had imagined when reading that doomed book, from three lines of description and a single centuries-old illustration?

The name he had given them was different, but a name could be easily lied about. The letter on his chest-plate, which she had read as an 'R', could easily be a 'B', _damn gothic letters_. And yes, he could be a random time traveler from a similar era who wore the same kind of armor and the same hairstyle and used the same movements to summon magic but _what where the odds_.

The timing was right, too: they had come from fighting the dragon in Paris a few weeks ago, and Herald had sent him to whatever god-forsaken dimension he sent his enemies to.

Raven had wondered, at the time, if it was a good idea to leave him in a random dimension instead of the taking the tried and tested route of trapping him inside the book, but just then Timmy had complained of being sleepy, and she'd had to figure out a way to have a sleeping toddler on her lap and still maintain her image in front of the honorary Titans. Malchior had slipped out of her mind, which was just as it should be—that story should have been finished a long time ago.

Once home, she had checked the chest by her bed and, sure enough, the damned book was gone.

Raven took the tea to the breakfast table and tried to think calmly.

Could he have gotten out of that alternate dimension? She never had found out how he came to be fighting with the Brotherhood of Evil in the first place. Could he have powers she didn't know of? Could he be powerful enough to return from another dimension by himself, and then to assume a convincing human form?

His powers, other than the physical capabilities of a dragon body, lay in absorbing magic and twisting it to his convenience. There was no shape-shifting that she knew of. The book had been accurate in the description of his powers before, and if he had other powers, why hadn't he used them to defeat her?

And so if he was Rorek the wizard, where had he come from? How was he in the present, and _why_?

Then there was the third option: that Raven was imagining everything and this guy was an innocent time traveler who had nothing to do with anyone from her past.

 _But that voice!_ , her mind shouted at her.

Well… the voice could simply be her brain playing tricks on her. It was plausible that, after the fight with the Brotherhood, he was simply on her mind—one of the many things she wasn't aware became buried under her immediate conscience in the process of meditating her emotions away.

All of her doubts and theories came to an end when the wizard himself walked into the room.

Raven had turned around when the doors swished open, expecting one of her friends and half concocting an excuse as to why she was still there, and when she saw the stranger, she rose abruptly.

"Do you recognize me, Raven?"

His expression was contrite –he wasn't wearing his scarf-, but also determined. She realized he had known she was here.

"Yes," she replied, although she hadn't settled on either name yet.

He walked down the stairs slowly. Raven tensed, but he went no further than the landing, and simply looked at her, eyes pleading. "But, do you really?"

It was as if the sly dragon in disguise she had known had been replaced by this dejected being, who only _looked like_ him by turns and then didn't.

She finished picking.

"Rorek." She made it sound like an accusation. "The _good_ wizard who defeated Malchior—is what I supposed you want me to say."

The mage hung his head, and Raven felt from him a wave of disappointment that confused her.

It was with another tone of voice –more subdued, more like he was pulling himself together- that he said, "You must have a lot of questions. Please, ask. I will answer them to the best of my ability."

All the possibilities she was considering battled in her head. She was trying to see past his words, tear apart his actions, and find the trap hidden beneath. His emotions felt _heavy_ , like something was weighing him down. It felt like there was a lot he wanted to say, yet he was holding back. Raven pulled her hood over her head. She kept a fraction of her focus on the panic button, ready to trigger it should he pose a threat.

She went with, "How are you _here_." It was too forceful to be a question.

"I will tell you everything I saw," he said evenly. "The dragon Malchior and myself had been trapped, in my book, for—years. That…" he hesitated, "That much of what he told you was true. I saw him get freed, and I saw when you sealed him back in. Then, I couldn't say how long after, he was released again. It was very sudden…-"

"Released by whom?" It had been one of the first things Robin had asked her after the fight, and she hadn't had an answer for him.

"A witch," he replied. "An old woman, small and hunchbacked. Her magic gave off a yellow glow. Her hair was long and white, if I remember correctly."

Raven was reminded of Cyborg's description of the witch who had summoned him to the past. Had she been in the fight against the Brotherhood too? Raven saved the thought for later.

"She seemed to know what she was doing beforehand," the wizard went on. "I hoped for Malchior to be sealed back in eventually, but it never happened. Instead, the witch came back, and released _me_."

"Why?"

"To help her escape, I presume. I appeared in a cell when I came out. I don't think the people who kept her captive knew I was on the book too. Then we both escaped. I don't know where she is right now."

He was choosing his words carefully, she noted. Answering her questions swiftly and concisely, and then looking at her straight in the eye, as if to show he was telling the truth.

Raven was striving to treat him like any other enemy, but he was refusing to be anything but helpful and compliant.

"If this is all so perfectly innocent, why lie to my friends?"

"I'll tell them everything if you wish it." He said it so quickly even a non-empath could tell he was in earnest. "I just wanted to talk to you first."

"Why me? What do I have to do with you?"

"I needed to make things right—to tell you the truth of things."

"And you actually expect me to believe you?" The coldness in her voice had its effect; she felt a flare of distress as response. She neutralized it. "What are the chances that first I met the dragon, and now the wizard's here? Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't seal you back into the book."

He responded to her violence with levelness. He took a breath, and –with a nauseating mix of hope and dread- said, "There's more."

 _There it is_ , she realized. Whatever he was about to say, he was drawing close to the burden that weighed him down so much. But she groaned internally, because she was already strained from his loud emotions toppling over each other. She was half disposed to put up a mental barrier, but she might lose valuable insight.

 _It's the last chance I give him to start making sense_ , she told herself. "Fine."

He hesitated. Now allowed the word, he seemed unsure how to begin. Raven observed him from under the safety her hood.

"You said it was unlikely that I should be here, after the dragon had sought you out," he said after a minute. "Well… it's not a natural thing. The odds are tilted in our favor." He looked at her, trying to see how his words were received, but he found they fell on an impassive shell. "You don't remember, but this has happened before. It _always_ happens." He was rushing his words now, his voice gaining urgency. "We are destined to meet—to be reborn in subsequent lives, and reunited. My lady, this has been happening for centuries. An ancient spell made it so!"

He finished this speech with a rousing tone and arms outstretched towards her, all his cards on the table.

Raven stood as the same inexpressive monolith she had been before his declaration, but inside her thoughts were going on several different directions. The situation had taken such a bizarre direction, she felt a degree of relief. Perhaps the person in front of her was neither Rorek nor Malchior, but just a regular nutjob.

The wizard awaited her verdict with wide eyes, as if making them bigger would help him detect a change in her expression.

The silence stretched. Rorek put his arms down.

One thing was certain: he had said the hard thing he came to say, and his own feeling of release made it easier for Raven to think.

"Well, that's… not what I expected," she said, truthfully enough. "Centuries, you say. Does it _always_ end up with a dragon trying to eat me and my friends?"

"No… no, that is a first," he muttered, in a gentle disappointed sarcasm as response to her own. "Raven. I _can_ prove it." Halfway across the room, he held his hand out to her. "You need to touch me. If you touch me, you'll remember."

"I'm not going to do that," she stated—furious he had even suggested it. "You understand I would be very stupid, to do exactly what someone I don't trust asks me to do." She detached herself from all the indignation, resentment, frustration, and emotional exhaustion, and what came out was a devastatingly scathing tone. "Now, I suggest you go back to the room we're letting you sleep in, before someone sees you and asks what you're doing here."

With that she levitated around and then past him, not turning to see him as she left the room. She only felt a remnant of anguish follow her after the doors swished closed behind her, and after that there was nothing but her own thumping heart, the beads of sweat collecting in her forehead, and a whole lot of meditation to look forward to tonight.

* * *

*throws another 'Rorek-the-real-wizard-comes-back-for-Raven' story into the pile*

So everything you're about to read was inspired by a 10-year-old video tribute for Spellbound, with the song Samson by Regina Spektor. You'll see why c:

Also, the way Rorek got out of the book is based on the (probably animation error) fact that the witch from Cyborg the Barbarian appeared among the Brotherhood on Homecoming Part 2 but then wasn't in the final battle, so my personal theory is they only got her to free Malchior.


	2. Chapter 2: Reminiscence

**Back on Track**

 **Chapter 2. Reminiscence.**

The next morning, Raven was awakened by Beast Boy banging on her door.

"Raaee! C'mon, get up! Robin's gonna interrogate the new guy! He wants everyone to be there!"

Raven wrapped her pillow around her head, in a futile attempt to block out reality and go back to sleep.

After her teammate skipped off, she sat up drowsily on her bed. Glancing at her clock, she saw it was almost nine. So she had only gotten a couple hours of sleep—but meditation over sleep had been the right choice. She was exhausted, but at least her head was clear.

Not that she had solved anything. The emotions that had come up the night before had been called forward, dealt with, and sent off to their rightful places in Nevermore, but the problem was still there. Meditation couldn't tell her what to do about Rorek.

It wasn't as much a question of whether she should tell her friends—she knew she should, period. It was just that she didn't want to. But being secretive was what she had done last time.

And if she exposed him and got him kicked out of the tower on her word, was that fair? She didn't even feel bad intentions coming from him. And all he had _really_ done was tell her a crazy story.

But now it seemed the choice was being taken away from her. If Robin was going to question him…

 _Robin's judgment I can trust_ _._ If there was something suspicious, he would see it. Maybe she didn't need to decide. Maybe it wouldn't have to be her choice at all.

When she phased to the common room, everyone was already there, sitting around the kitchen table. Rorek –she now called him that in her mind, regardless of how true it was- sat at the far end. Robin gave her a nod as she sat on the other end, then turned back to the guest of honor.

"So. Bertram. We thought we'd get to know a bit more about you. You're from a place called Miir, you said? Where is that?"

Raven could tell that Robin was trying to make the meeting seem casual. Judging by Rorek's expression, and the fact that his scarf was securely in place, he wasn't fooled.

"It is the ancient seat of the kings of Northumbria," he replied dutifully.

"Right, and, what are you doing in our time?" asked Robin. "Are you tailing after the witch hunters?"

The mage's eyes darted away from Robin's. "Um. No. Not really."

There was a pause before Robin realized the stranger wasn't going to say anything else. "Um. Did your enemies send you here?"

"…No."

The titans exchanged glances. Raven watched the scene, deeply unsettled. She had feared that he would lie shamelessly to her friends. She had feared even more that he would cheerfully repeat what he had told _her_ the night before. She had never expected him to just fail to make up any story at all.

Robin gave him a long, searching look. "Well… you're gonna have to give me _something_ here, pal." The team leader kept his tone light, but he was now frowning.

And—there it was. The stranger did what Robin thought he'd do, and his eyes flickered to the other end of the table. He thought he'd seen it yesterday and now he was sure: whenever he doubted, perhaps not even knowing he was doing it, the mage would glace at Raven. As if asking her how much he should tell. As if she knew his story already.

Robin glanced at his teammate. She had her hood up, as she was wont to do around new people, and she was staring firmly at a point on the table.

"My only intent, with you all, is to help you find and defeat our common enemy," the wizard was saying.

"You're saying you came here to help _us_."

Once again, Rorek stayed quiet for a considerable time, a flush in his cheeks visible over his scarf. Beast Boy exchanged a look with Cyborg, who shook his head subtly, as if to say, _nope, I've no idea what's up with this guy either_.

Finally Rorek said, "Not exactly."

Robin hung his head and tried to gather himself. He wasn't so much frustrated as, well, offended. This guy was a waste of his detective abilities.

Meanwhile, Raven was going through a lot. Who was this awkward mess of a man? Where the day before she had looked at him and only seen the bad memory of Malchior, now she had to struggle to see the traces of him.

She wanted to say something, if only to make it all stop. If he was this bad a liar then she'd be forced to think to think he had been telling _her_ the truth the night before.

…Unless that was exactly his plan.

Raven stayed quiet.

"Right," said Robin. "How about you tell us _how_ you got here?"

Starfire intervened. "Please. We only wish to know how you arrived to this time."

"Yeah," Beast Boy chipped in with an encouraging smile. "You got a really cool time machine parked somewhere?"

Rorek looked at the two people clearly trying to help him. He sighed, and seemed to make up his mind. "I… never travelled through time. I am a thousand and twenty-two years old."

"Whoa," Cyborg breathed.

"How can that be?" Starfire gasped.

Robin sat back down, calmer now they were getting somewhere. "Yes. How is that possible? How did you live this long?"

The mage hesitated. "I have been trapped." His weary expression persuaded Robin that he was telling the truth.

"Trapped magically, I suppose."

"Yes."

"Trapped by a villain? Or _like_ a villain?"

Silence hung thick in the air until Rorek realized his meaning. The other titans had anticipated what their leader was leading up to, but to the wizard it came as a surprise. "What? I-I'm not the villain-!"

"Why did you come into contact with us?"

"I did not—I was in trouble and you aided me-"

"But you were already coming into town. At the same time the hunters appeared."

The accused stopped cold, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "You think I'm in league with the hunters?" Robin leaned back, arms crossed. "They seek to destroy magic users!"

"While _using_ magic. You said so yourself," the leader pointed out. "Tell me one thing. How did you know who we were before meeting us?"

"As I said, your fame precedes you…-"

"To the middle ages!?"

Rorek forgot his panic in momentary indignation. "Middle ages? Is that meant as an insult?"

Robin closed in on the wizard's face. "Give me one good reason why we should trust you."

Rorek's face was both indignation and alarm. His mouth clamped shut, and for the first time he was truly out of words. The other titans, who had taken an instant liking to the mage, began to have second thoughts as they watched him wilt under Robin's glare. It seemed clear this situation would end with one homeless or incarcerated wizard.

"Robin."

Five pairs of eyes turned back—Raven had used her 'listen to me or else' voice. "If you'd asked any of us about our pasts when we first joined this team, we wouldn't wanted to tell you either."

Robin furrowed his eyebrows at his teammate. She had a point, sure, but he felt like there was something else going on here. The stranger was hiding something, and it felt bigger than a troubled past. Raven held his gaze, with a firmness she reserved for times when she was deathly sure of something. She clearly wanted him to desist.

Beast Boy looked back and forth between them with a bored expression, and muttered to Cyborg, "I hate it when they speak in eyes."

Cyborg didn't answer, shocked into silence by Raven's unlikely intervention.

"Do you trust him?" Robin asked Raven.

"I can sense no bad intentions coming from him," she stated.

Rorek looked from one to the other, and cleared his throat. "I am hiding some secrets," he said solemnly. "They are of a personal nature and would put none of you in harm's way. And I am _not_ in league with the hunters. I swear it."

Robin considered. "Fine." He looked up at the mage. "You're on probation. You can stay, but don't get too comfortable." He made his way towards the door. "Titans, to the gym. Let's get some training done before we waste the whole morning."

With that he left, cape fluttering behind him.

Rorek looked at Raven. She met his eyes for a fraction of a second. He opened his mouth, but before he could muster a simple 'thank you', she broke the gaze, and levitated out of the room.

The wizard was still staring at the closed door when he found himself under a shadow, and he looked up to find Cyborg towering over him _._ "And _I_ will be watching you like a hawk," he stated, his robotic eye extending until it almost touched Rorek's face. Then he stalked off.

"Um, being on probation means you probably shouldn't leave the tower without telling someone," said Beast Boy, walking backwards out of the room. "So, don't do that. Just in case."

Already on the doorway, Starfire stopped in mid-air and flew back to the wizard.

"You are indeed an intriguing stranger. But at times you seem terribly sad. There is something that troubles you, yes? May I ask what it is?"

Rorek smiled at her. "You need not trouble yourself with my problems."

Starfire set her feet on the ground, saddened. "Is there nothing we can help with?"

"You do more than enough to welcome me in your home. And I assure you, there's no better place for me to be than here."

* * *

Cyborg made a point to follow his sullen leader to the control panels, letting the others go down to the pit. They set a level and started the obstacle course, before he cleared his throat. "So. Weird dude."

"Yep," replied Robin.

"She has a point you know," Cyborg said, as Beast Boy got started on a level 5 course. "You did trust the lot of us right off the bat."

"Yeah, and I got lucky the first four times. The fifth time around, not so much." They looked at the course, both remembering the last time they had brought a young heroine to train with them. "Did you get the feeling that they already knew each other?"

Cyborg shifted uncomfortably. "Why would she not tell us if she did?"

Robing noted that his teammate didn't deny it. "Because this is Raven we're talking about."

"Yes, this is Raven we're talking about," Cyborg echoed, frowning. "If she's hiding something it's not gonna be something that puts us in danger."

Robin frowned and didn't say anything. Cyborg must have selective memory regarding a girl who had kept the literal end of the world from them in an effort to spare them from it.

"Wanna know what _I_ think?" Cyborg asked. Robin raised an eyebrow in expectancy. "I think he just likes her."

For all his nagging feelings of doubt, Robin couldn't help but burst out laughing at his friend's tone. Cyborg sounded proud and worried at the same time, while trying and failing to sound light-hearted. The half-robot had a gloomy look on his face when Robin looked up, which only made him laugh harder. Cyborg couldn't have made a better picture of a conflicted older brother if he and Raven were actually related.

His laugh winded down to a sigh, and he said, "I still don't know about him, though. He is hiding something. And I don't know him enough to trust that whatever he's not telling us is harmless."

"So, keep an eye on him." Cyborg's eyes were on Raven as she replaced Beast Boy at the beginning of the course. "I know I will."

* * *

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Azarath Metrion Zinthos

Azarath Metrio-"

"…CHEATED, you cheaty pants!"

"Not my fault you didn't see my tricks coming, Cyborg!"

"Tricks huh? Lemme tell you how I think you spell tricks, it's C-H-E-A…"

Raven opened her eyes. Along the years, she had learnt the art of not falling on her butt every time her concentration was broken, but Cyborg's voice in particular always managed to make her lose focus.

She set her feet on the ground. Darkness had crept into her room while she meditated, but she didn't feel done yet. She looked out of her window, where the last of twilight still persevered, and decided to continue on the roof.

But when she phased to the roof, there was already someone there. Her empathy picked up on sadness before her eyes saw the figure standing by the edge, looking intently up at the sky.

It wasn't a good night for stargazing—pale clouds obscured half the sky. But she guessed for someone who had been trapped in a book for a thousand years, even this night was beautiful. Raven lingered a moment, watching Rorek's dark hair flowing in the wind.

She made to turn back inside, when he spoke.

"I can still hardly believe I'm out. After all these years."

Raven stood rooted to the spot, taken aback at his openness. She hesitated, but then pulled up her hood and walked towards him. She had things to say to him anyhow.

"How did you know it was me there?" she asked, walking up to a safe distance of him.

"I just knew." At her incredulous look, his face got apologetic. "I… I just know you. Your presence."

Raven crossed her arms. "I see you're sticking to your story."

"Of course. It's the only one I've got."

 _Evidently_ , she thought, remembering his disastrous performance earlier.

He seemed different now. Calmer, more at ease. Far from the nervous deer in the headlights he had been earlier, and also from the intense and desperate being he had been the night before. His mood had lightened since she had showed up here, but she was choosing not to notice that.

"Thank you for helping me earlier," he said, with a degree of formality. "If it wasn't for you, I think I would have been kicked out on the streets."

Raven kept her eyes firm on the opposite shore, where the forest unfolded before them, and said what she had been thinking over the last few hours. "Look, Rorek… I meant what I told Robin. I can sense no bad intentions from you. I think the others like you, and you fit well with the team. So, you can stay—maybe even join the Titans. But that doesn't mean I believe all this about—past lives and everything. You understand it's not something I can believe without proof. And I won't touch you," she added quickly. "So don't ask me to do that."

"I understand," he said, an echo of her words that he didn't mean. He projected strong emotions, and there was gratefulness, yes, but also frustration and restlessness, and just plain sadness. "And I thank you, truly. I know it must not be easy, after what you went through because of me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Because of you?" she remarked, suddenly alert.

He only looked at her soberly. "It was my knowledge the dragon used to deceive you. And my voice, and my likeness." He looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself and cast his eyes down.

Raven let it go. "Right. Let's not get into that."

Rorek smiled. "Let's not, then."

His scarf was pooled around his neck, so when he smiled, she could fully appreciate it. It was a nice sight, even if she was seeing it out of the corner of her eye.

Sometimes his image shifted into that of the paper man, and it was nauseating. But when he smiled, the mirage faded –the paper man had never had a mouth- and it was easy to see him as a whole other being separate from the dragon.

Time lingered. The waves crashed peacefully into the rocks beneath them. Raven told herself to go back inside.

"I think I may have idealized my memory of the stars," said Rorek.

Despite a voice telling her not to engage, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"They seem… dimmer somehow. And as if there are less of them."

Only then did Raven realize how strange the night sky must seem to him. The Titans' Tower had a privileged stargazing spot, but they were still too close to the city to appreciate the sky in its true splendor.

"It's only the city lights," she told him. "They dull out the stars. If you were far enough from the city they'd look like you remember."

Rorek looked at her with curiosity. "How do lights from Earth affect the sky above?"

"Well…" Raven took a moment to order her thoughts. To explain light pollution she would have to lay down the concept of 'atmosphere'—not to mention what light itself _was_.

He smiled. "Never mind. I shall take your word for it." He looked up again. He had settled himself facing away from the city, Raven realized. All of his surroundings were probably overwhelming to him, and he looked to the sky for an anchor that wasn't there. "Some familiar ones are still there. The brightest and the best, I suppose. And those look exactly the same." But a tinge of sadness was still there, clouding his aura.

Raven looked up as well.

"…What can you name?" she murmured, surprising herself.

She was rewarded with a burst of joy on his part, which nearly made her not feel the dread that came from herself.

Rorek peered between the clouds. "There's Ursa Major." He cocked his head. "Perhaps a bit thinner than I remember."

"Times are hard," said Raven, and when he chuckled a thrill went through her, stupidly.

"Medusa's Head," he went on.

She squinted. "What?"

"There." He pointed at a patch in the sky. "Medusa Caputae."

Raven followed the gauntlet-clad arm, to the finger pointing at a collection of stars, and it hit her all over again that he was flesh and bones. This being, who had once been a mere voice out of a book, now was here, close enough to touch. Once it was everything she'd wanted. And how did she feel about that? Shouldn't she be cowered, overwhelmed?

And yet all of this, their standing by each other, the familiarity of it, didn't feel overwhelming at all. It just felt… _right_ —which in itself was alarming. After Malchior, Raven had wondered how she, of all people, had become so comfortable with a person so fast. Now, despite herself, she was remembering how.

 _I came up here to meditate_ , she remembered. She shouldn't have let him distract her.

"You see it?" Rorek was looking at her.

"We know that one as Perseus," she told him.

"Oh." He lowered his arm. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, thoughtful. Her mood change didn't get past him, it seemed. "I do not blame you for not trusting me, Raven. I wouldn't believe it either if I was told all this with no prior knowledge of any of it." He gazed at her timidly, tentatively. "When I see you, I see all the others you have been. You see me and… see only me."

Raven had nothing to say to that.

The wizard looked thrown off when she turned to leave. "You're going?" he blurted out.

It took Raven aback the way his mood plummeted so fast. Where before his energy had been a cocktail of contradiction emotions, now everything was simply black.

"I…was going to meditate," she said simply, her head reeling from the sudden change in his energy.

Rorek caught himself; he swallowed and nodded at her. "Goodnight, Raven."

She left him with his eyes cast back up, to his ineffectual anchor.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3: Recall

**Back on Track**

 **Chapter 3. Recall.**

Raven walked into the common room to the usual clatter. The TV changed channels repeatedly as Cyborg and Beast Boy fought over the remote, and Starfire stood by trying to mediate. It was such a normal scene that, for a moment, Raven wondered if she had dreamt up Rorek's return.

She put water to boil and Beast Boy sulked towards the counter, having lost the battle for the remote. He dropped onto a chair and rested his head on his palm. "There's waffles chilling in the 'maker."

"Thanks," said Raven.

As she moved to Cyborg's waffle machine and set it to reheat, Beast Boy said, "Hey, d'you know who King Tulla and Queen Beltis were?"

Raven eyed him searchingly. "Why?"

"Bertie was talking about how he used to be a knight under their command."

" _Bertie_."

Beast Boy snickered. "He hates being called that."

Raven rolled her eyes. "They were monarchs of Northumbria, somewhere around the eighth century. Or the ninth."

"Oh, North-uh-that thing. That's the place he named yesterday. What is that?"

"One of the seven kingdoms that Great Britain used to be?"

"You say that like I should know what you're talking about."

"I don't know why I thought you would," she admitted.

"Okay, so that's legit."

Raven settled on the table with her breakfast and looked at her teammate searchingly, wondering why Beast Boy was talking to her about Rorek. Was he just rattling off what was on his mind, as per usual, or was he going out of his way to mention him? "Is Robin still interrogating him?"

"Kinda. But I think he's warming up to him. They were training earlier."

Raven's eyes shot up at that. If Robin was testing his abilities, that might mean he was considering adding him to the team. "Oh?"

"Yeah, Bert said he wanted to train, and Robin offered to show him how the gym works."

Raven sipped her tea slowly, thinking that soon she might really have Rorek under her roof twenty-four seven, and trying to figure out how that made her feel.

That morning, when she woke up, her first emotion had been peace. Before opening her eyes, she had a sense of being comforted, like she had fallen asleep holding somebody—not that she knew what that felt like. It had taken a while to place the source of that emotion, and when she did, the bliss had turned to dread.

She had thought it was enough to admit him into her home and into her life as an uncertain ally. To trust her friends' judgment and leave her own opinion for later. But now she saw she couldn't keep being on the fence.

She had to find out the truth, and this time, she wouldn't blindly trust in a fantastical story—this time she had to get proof of her own accord. But for that she needed to know more.

When Rorek came into the room, she knew it without having to look. It was in the way he paused at the door for a moment, before the footsteps turned towards the kitchen. She knew her friends' walks so well that she could pick out those of a stranger, it seemed. If she'd had any doubt, Beast Boy's greeting would have cleared them.

"Bert-the-man! You know that movie I wanted to show you? Well, I can't, 'cause Cyborg's hogging the TV!"

"I heard that, grass stain!" shouted Cyborg without turning.

"I _wanted_ you to hear it, tin man!"

"Please, do not argue on my account," Rorek said, approaching the kitchen table.

He sat next to Raven and every nerve in her body screamed. A lot of it was anger—what did he think he was doing? People who only recently knew the Titans never warmed up to her this fast. Of all the acquaintances the team had met over the years, everyone always approached Raven last, if at all.

Thankfully, Beast Boy didn't seem to have noticed anything was off—bless his lack of observational skills.

Raven finished her waffles, which were suddenly like cardboard in her mouth, as the conversation between the two boys turned to Beast Boy trying to explain the movie, a medieval drama with a convoluted plot, from beginning to end.

By the time she collected her dishes and began washing them, Beast Boy's narration had evolved into a rendition of the battle choreography, complete with sound effects. Apparently his intention was for 'Bertie' to convince Cyborg the movie was realistic.

Rorek was stunned after Beast Boy finished. "I… would assume all historical accounts of my era have been lost?" he asked in a voice that was almost pained.

"…Are you saying it's not realistic?"

"I'm saying if they were aiming for satire, it was a very fine job."

Raven was thankful she was facing the plates as her lips curled up in a smile.

"Told ya!" came Cyborg's remark from the couch, as Starfire softly giggled.

Before Beast Boy could reply, the doors swished open to admit Robin. "Good, you're all here," he said, looking around the room. He walked to the center of the room with what the others had learned to identify as his 'thinking about the mission' frown, so his team perked up. Cyborg muted the TV, and Raven and Beast Boy left the kitchen to flock around their leader.

"I just finished talking to the chief of police," he told them. "They're still processing the evidence. Said they'd let me know when we could interrogate the hunters." He had a dark look on his face, like whenever he had to deal with bureaucracy. "Until then, we need to keep on our toes. We're gonna patrol the city, see if there's anything odd. Cy, you and me are going east. Beast Boy and Star, take the skies. Ra-"

Starfire interrupted by clapping her hands together. "This is marvelous! We currently have even numbers for the splitting up!"

Robin stopped in his tracks, floored. All five titans turned to look at Rorek, who stared back at them from the kitchen counter with a look of surprise.

"Um…" said Robin. Evidently, he hadn't meant to invite him along.

At the leader's indecision, Rorek pulled to his feet and solemnly announced, "I am at your service if you have need of me."

Robin blinked. "Right…yes, fine, I guess you can patrol with us. Uh," Robin looked his team over. Then he met Raven's eyes, and everyone in the room arrived at the same conclusion at roughly the same time. Raven was the only one unpaired; but Robin knew her too well to pair her with a stranger if he didn't know what she thought about them.

Raven gave it a moment's thought, and it dawned on her that this was a good chance to find out more about Rorek, as well as a good chance to show her friends _and_ Rorek that she didn't particularly care if he came along or not.

She turned to Robin, who was watching her attentively, and gave an unceremonious shrug.

"Okay," shrugged Robin. "So you two take west."

Minutes later, Raven and Rorek were walking through the city. Just like that.

People let them pass –years of training the civilians to leave patrolling superheroes alone had eventually stuck- but they _stared_. Rorek was a novelty. If Raven bothered to check the news, she knew there would be photos and theories of the 'new titan'. Some were even snapping pictures of them right now, and Raven knew it would only get worse as they got further downtown.

Rorek stopped with her when she halted before a building. "We'll get more visual if we go on the roofs."

He nodded at her. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again his hands were glowing white. He chanted something and his feet were encased in a white glow, and when Raven floated up to a roof, he followed after, landing with a _thump_ of his boots on concrete.

"Lead the way," he told her, smiling warmly. She noticed he had pulled down his scarf. As for her, she was still wearing her hood up.

"A controlled jumping spell?" she commented as they set off.

"Sometimes the most basic spells are the best road to take," he said, the flush in his cheeks betraying the poise in his words. "I can perform more far more complex spells, to be sure."

The way he tried to defend himself in front of her rang familiar. She was reminded of the way Malchior would proudly tell her about his accomplishments in his life before the book—all the times people came from far away to seek him for his knowledge, all the feats he'd done, the foes he'd slain.

Rorek _had_ said the dragon had used his knowledge, but she was just now realizing what that implied. The resemblance had made her uneasy. How much of the paper man had been Malchior, and how much had been Rorek? Where did one end and the other begin?

"I have questions," she started before she could back down.

"I will answer gladly," he responded. He seemed only happy she was talking to him.

"According to you," she started, sternly, "it was Malchior I was talking to the entire time, right?"

The mention of the dragon seemed to make him uneasy too, and he frowned. "Yes, although using my voice, my memories, and my likeness."

"But you could hear everything."

"Yes."

"And that's how you knew the name of my friends."

"Yes." His mouth twitched into a sardonic smile, and Raven knew he was remembering Robin's interrogation.

"You really should have acted like you didn't know us."

He looked sheepish all of a sudden. "Perhaps I should have. But I wanted to pay due honor to your team. You know how I am with…-" He stopped cold when he remembered that no, she didn't know anything about him. But he couldn't swallow his words back, so he coughed and looked down. "But that would have been a lie, and I can't lie."

"You can't lie?" she repeated, eyeing him sideways. "Then who's Bertram?"

"It's my baptismal name. And Nol is within the land of Miir, in case you're wondering. I regret lying to your friends, but I didn't know whether they would recognize the name Rorek." He looked at her then, but she ignored the implicit question. There was no need for him to know how much she had told her friends. He went on, unbothered, "But anyway, what I meant to say is not that I'm too honorable to lie. That is, I do dislike it. But I just meant I'm hopeless at it."

 _I guess you proved that hopelessness in Robin's interrogation_ , thought Raven. And it was a good quality to claim to have when you were trying to separate yourself from a lying dragon. "You can go a long way with a twisted truth," she murmured.

He eyed her timidly. "To you I'll tell all the truth."

Raven stopped walking and faced him. "Do you swear it?"

"I do."

Raven kept her face steel as she said, "And you know that if I catch you on a lie, it's back into the book for you?"

He flinched, but nodded. Raven felt a stab of panic from him, and felt guilty for making such a cruel threat, but held her ground. She just hoped he didn't see through her bluff. She walked some distance and sat on the ground, and looked at him in expectancy.

Rorek hesitated, which made Raven grow wary.

"We… were told to patrol," he said.

 _He's just worried about disobeying Robin_ , she thought with relief. "If the witch hunters were up to something I'd feel it."

"I know." He looked like he wanted to protest further, but he went to sit in front of her instead. "Where should I start?"

Raven pulled her hood down—it was only polite at this point. "You said something about a spell being the cause of all this the other day. Start with that."

"The spell was to bind our souls together. For all eternity, we were meant to be reborn and reunited, and remember who we were to each other when we first touched."

Raven let that pass like he was talking about the weather. "Is this written down somewhere?" she asked. "In a spells book, or a history book?"

He thought. "I don't think so. The spell itself we created on the spot, and there was no one to record it. As for historical accounts… I'm fairly certain the only document to include us was the Bible, which was never much for accuracy."

"The _Bible_?" she couldn't help but echo. He had that apologetic look in his face again, which she didn't like. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you about to tell me we trace back to Adam and Eve?"

"No, only Samson and Delilah."

Raven glared at him for a few seconds, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He gazed back patiently, as if he hadn't just added a whole new type of strain on her suspended disbelief. "Right," she said finally. "Now you're just making fun of me."

"I am not making fun of you," he said, with laughter in his eyes. "But everything does sound utterly crazy when you're disposed not to believe it."

She crossed her arms sullenly, ignoring the way the glint in his eyes made her forget the situation for an instant. "Of all the stories in the Bible, did you _have_ to choose the prototype of betrayal?"

"Well, it didn't happen like that," he said vehemently, losing his smile. "That's only how it got writ."

"So she _didn't_ cut his hair and get him killed?"

"Only when he asked her to." He looked away. "Samson loved Delilah, and she loved him back. All the rest is fabrication."

"You're claiming they were mages", she pointed out.

"Of course." He shrugged. "Back then, things weren't as clear-cut as they are now. I lived to see a time where magic was denied to have existed back then. And I understand it—witchcraft _was_ outlawed in the scriptures. It's just that didn't stop the common people from practicing it. The Catholic Church taught the very existence of it was heresy. I had to stay quiet as people misconstrued events from my own past, told lies of the times I'd lived through, even twisted some of the people I had _been_ …" The bitterness in his voice surprised her. It was a side of him she hadn't seen before. He seemed to realize he was getting off track, and his eyes snapped towards her. "Would you hear the full story?"

 _Here goes nothing_ , she thought as she nodded.

Rorek let his gaze wander in the distance. "Samson never wanted his power. Least of all after he met Delilah. He had been told he would keep the gift God had given him as long as he kept his vows, so he began to break them. But there was no overriding what God had decided he deserved." Rorek's voice had gotten heavy and slow. When he looked up at her, his voice was closer to what she had come to regard as normal for him. "It's my curse. I seem to always perish either obeying authority or defying it."

Raven looked back impassively. She didn't have the context for the words to mean something to her.

"His being with Delilah brought them both problems," Rorek went on. "The Philistines pressured her into delivering Samson, the Israelites wanted Samson to abandon her…. So they went into hiding. And… they stayed in hiding until they no longer could."

Rorek paused, his eyes dropping to the ground. Raven thought he looked downright haunted.

"Samson broke his last vow, and it did seem all the strength had left him. But God decided to give him a last bout of strength… enough to bring down the temple, along with most of the Philistines."

His gaze was on his hands. Raven noted they were flexing and stretching, as if he was recalling the movement, replaying what it had felt like to tear down the columns of the temple.

She observed his forlorn shape, brought down by things that had happened several millennia ago, and wondered if he regretted doing this to himself. Would he do the spell he described again, if he had the chance? Would _she_ ever have chosen to do a spell like that?

"That's why they made the spell, just before going out of hiding. They were desperate and they wanted another chance at life. They didn't know if it would work, but the hope was enough."

 _Hope against hope itself_ , she thought. She could relate to that much at least.

They fell in silence. Rorek seemed saddened by the recollection. Raven was only annoyed she was getting nowhere.

Rorek focused back on her. "None of that helped you much, did it?" he asked.

She didn't deny it. But she chose to be sensitive to his emotion, so she just said, "It kind of needs to be seen to be believ…" Raven trailed off, as a new idea occurred to her. Rorek looked at her in curiosity. She gave the idea a few turns in her mind before meeting his gaze. "So, the spell worked, and they went on to meet in subsequent lives, and recognized each other?

"With the first touch, yes."

"And they talk about this. As in, they acknowledge the reincarnation… out loud."

Rorek squinted, not sure where she was going. "There is always reminiscing involved," he offered.

"So, theoretically, we could just… visit those times and see them ourselves."

She watched his reaction closely. He didn't look panicked, or reluctant. If anything, he looked amazed. "Travel to the past? Have you the power to work that?"

She shrugged. "I can figure something out."

He smiled at her, a true, carefree smile, full of hope, and it was all she could do not to smile back. She was extremely satisfied—this way she didn't need to trust him blindly or to reject him out of caution. This way she could take matters into her own hands.

"And then would you believe me?" he asked tentatively.

"Depends on what I see," was the non-committal reply.

"Well then," he said, "I'm entirely at your disposal as you prove my identity taking the long way around."

Raven realized he was teasing her—he must have felt on safer ground.

She got up. "Come on. Let's wrap up this patrol. Robin makes us fill detailed forms at the end of every one. You're familiar with his favorite filing system, right?"

The panic in his face was amusing for the whole twenty minutes she let him believe that little story.

* * *

The peace lasted yet a while longer. After a while of actual patrolling, Robin finally called them back to the tower, and they made their way back.

"It's been hard to get used to the noise," Rorek was saying. "I mean, out here, it's normal that it's loud. The traffic is noise I can expect. But inside the Tower, when everything else is quiet, there's a constant… hum. Even at night."

"You're right," said Raven, realizing as she said it. "You're probably hearing all the machines, and the lights. That's the buzz of electricity."

"But other than the fact that the world is odd, I'm perfectly fine. This is heaven compared to where I've been." Then he turned to her with an upsetting gaze and smile. "If you only talked to me a little more, I would be completely happy."

Raven felt herself blush, so she turned her face away.

"Here's something you haven't explained," she said. "If we have to touch to get our memories back, how come you already remember everything?"

It was the wrong thing to ask so carelessly. His smile slowly dropped, and his energy turned dark. "Because I already found you in my lifetime," he explained after a minute. "I had a wife. Her name was Lilja."

Raven stopped suddenly, making Rorek stop with her. He looked back at her with a sad smile, but he saw her shock and took it for pity, and went on. "She wrote the book, you know. The spells book, I mean."

Raven didn't say anything. He watched her searchingly, probably wondering at her silence. "You'll be wondering what happened to her. She tried to free me for years," he explained, sounding like he felt a duty to inform her rather than a wish to remember this. "But there was no way without freeing the dragon too. And we couldn't afford to do that. He was stronger than us—that's why I sealed him there in the first place. Then one day, she… didn't open the book anymore. I… can't say what happened to her."

Raven was staring at the ground. His emotion had gotten so heavy she could barely grasp what she herself was feeling. Suddenly it got lighter, and she looked up to find he was looking at her with a sad smile. "You don't know how happy it made me when the book opened and there was _you_. A-and how I despaired when I found I couldn't communicate with you. That that dragon was using my knowledge and feeding you lies…-."

Rorek cut himself off, because Raven had levitated away and turned her back on him.

It had taken her a while to understand her own turmoil. When something shocked or hurt her, her subconscious moved to shut it down. She left the dealing with it for later.

But when he had looked at her and smiled she had understood why. She was insulted, offended—he was talking to her like _she_ was his lost wife. He'd been talking like that this entire time.

"I'm sorry, you didn't want to talk about it," Rorek was saying.

Raven stayed still long enough to stabilize herself. That was long enough for Rorek to give in to his curiosity and approach her, gently asking, "Raven?"

But by then Raven had gained back control. She turned around and simply said, "Let's go back to the Tower."

She levitated past him before he could respond, and, despite Rorek's constant glances in her direction, despite the jumbled feelings from him she was now openly blocking, they went the rest of the way in silence.

Her friends didn't find it out of the ordinary when she went straight to her room right after arriving. And if Rorek was still looking at her wonderingly as she left, she didn't see it. She didn't want those eyes on her—not now she knew he was seeing through her.

Once she closed her bedroom door after her—then she let herself think.

What she felt first was tremendously stupid. _Of course_ there had been another girl. That was how the spell worked—some other incarnation needed to touch him. If Raven had overlooked that possibility it was only because she had liked to believe Rorek was here for her. That he had come out of the book and immediately started looking for _her_ ; and taken the trouble to explain and convince _her_. But he wasn't here for her.

A lot of things made sense now. Why he was here, why he was so adamant in staying close to her… why he looked at her like she was the world. He was remembering someone else. Raven was to be the replacement.

Now she understood why his feelings were all over the place—he was going by the memory of another girl. Raven must be nothing like he expected. How could she be? The girl he was thinking of was able to laugh and cry and live freely, without fear of her emotions accidentally destroying everything she loved.

Raven slid down her door, feeling horrendously _teenage_ as she did so. At least, she thought, the last few days finally made sense. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop ever since he had appeared. Well, there it was. She had done well to keep Rorek's identity from her friends—at least this time her disappointment could be private.

She couldn't have said how sat there, staring at the spot in the middle of her room where she usually meditated. Eventually she got up and went to it, got into position, and slowly began to let go.

* * *

A/N: The thing Rorek says about magic in biblical times is the result of my research on the ins and outs of magic as seen by the Israelites. I'm pretty sure I got it right—that magic was technically outlawed, but the people still practiced it, and besides the magic forbidden was along the lines of divination, seeking omens, mediums, necromancers, and spell-casters, while things like incantations, healing, exorcism, and making and using amulets and talismans were tolerated, or even approved of.

I really wanted to get this right since it draws on the history of Judaism. And my understanding is that witch and wizard characters of Jewish background are cool as long you steer clear of the negative stereotypes. But in case I got anything wrong, know that I don't mean to offend anyone. I don't think anyone is going to care since this is just a little fic, but I'm really invested in my stuff being a safe space for people, sooo, if you have any concerns, feel free to let me know!

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Rebuff

**Chapter 4. Rebuff.**

Raven angrily snapped shut the book she was holding and placed it in the Not-Useful pile. Or at least, what she thought was the Not-Useful pile.

She had started early that morning with two piles: one for books that were useful, and one for books that might be. Over time she had needed more piles, as she found spells that needed special ingredients she didn't own, or spells that seemed good but raised questions she should check out later, but only if she didn't come across anything better. Then there were those definitely not useful but which she still wanted to keep on sight—those went closest to the bed. But now she couldn't remember what the books against the desk were for, or why on one pile she had turned certain books ninety degrees from the others.

Looking at the mess around her, Raven was forced to accept that she wasn't going to find the right spell anytime soon. She had already skipped breakfast, and her conscience was telling her she should at least make an appearance upstairs.

She grabbed a choice book –a thick treatise which claimed to contain all spells that had to do with time ever created- and left her room.

In the common room she found Cyborg and Beast Boy on the couch playing video games, and to her surprise, Rorek was next to them. Robin sat to the kitchen table watching them, either waiting for his turn or enjoying the show. Raven moved stealthily towards the fridge.

"Bertram, pay attention! Look at the scre- oh, never mind, you're dead," she heard Cyborg say as she helped herself to the fridge.

"Okay, now you just press _x_ ," instructed Beast Boy as they launched a new game. "Keep pressing _x_ and everything will be alright."

"They've been at this the whole afternoon," Robin told her as she sat down. "They took it as a sort of project."

Unfortunately, the boys' teaching method seemed to consist of shouting and waving and giving contradictory orders. They had obviously launched him into the game with little to no explanations, and now they alternated between telling him what to do without explaining how, and telling him to press a button without explaining why. Rorek looked frantically from the controller to the screen, holding the device in his right hand and pressing buttons with his left like a grandpa.

"Cyborg and Beast Boy as teachers. I can see it," Raven remarked.

Robin smirked. "It's kind of fascinating to watch him interact with technology. I can't imagine what he might think about all of this. Must be wild to him."

"He probably thinks it's all magic," she said dismissively.

Her powers picked up a sudden unease, of the particular blend she identified as Robin's. She guessed he was probably tense about the witch hunters, and she had reminded him of them.

"Any more word from the police?" she asked him.

"They've decided to try the hunters as civilians, rather than super-villains. Therefore, 'the Titans aren't needed to interrogate them'," he told her, making the most aggressive air quotes she had ever seen.

"Maybe it would be useless to interrogate them, you know. The ones captive might not know what the rest are planning," she pointed out. "Besides, I wouldn't worry too much. They are only civilians with a magic talisman. All they can do is repel attacks, which means they're only as destructive as the enemies they encounter. They won't be so dangerous unless they strike here."

"Wait, where else would they strike? The strongest traces of magic must come from here, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not as if there aren't magic circles in the city, Robin." In better circumstances, Raven might have been amused by Robin's surprised face. "They might rather strike there. They're only human, after all. They probably didn't know what they were getting into when they ran into—Bertram." She caught herself in time—she had almost said the wrong name.

Robin smirked at her, and Raven realized in horror that her stumble had given him the wrong idea.

"You know, Cy thinks he likes you," he said, dropping his voice.

Raven glared at him, unblinking. She was so emotionally worn out by declarations from Rorek himself, she wasn't about to be flustered by a taunt from Robin. "And why's that? Because he does magic and uses long words?"

Robin wasn't deterred. "No. 'Cause of the way he looks at you."

She hated him a bit for that.

Instead of replying, she got up and walked towards the couch.

"And with this you launch a combined attack," Cyborg was saying.

Rorek inspected the key. "I thought this activated the flailing."

"Yeah! You're learning!" said Beast Boy. "But that was on the other game."

"Guys," Raven said, sitting against the side of the couch. "Why are you teaching our guest how to waste time?"

"He said he wanted to know what it was," said Beast Boy.

She felt Rorek's gaze on her, questioning, but she only looked at her teammates. "You should start with something more basic. Like a cell phone. Or a landline, for that matter."

Cyborg set down the control. "Yeah, I hear ya. Maybe we should've eased you in."

"Wanna learn how to work a phone?" Beast Boy asked Rorek.

The mage tore his eyes from Raven and turned to the boys. "Um. Alright. I'm fine with whatever you want to do." He was tired, Raven could tell, but for some reason he was intent on being good sport.

"Whatever." She left them and went to get her book from the counter, ignored the confused look Robin was giving her, and settled down in a favored spot on the floor beside the table to resume her reading.

 _You're wrong, Robin,_ she would have told him _. It's not me he's looking at_.

Hours passed as she perused her book, trying to look for the safest spell to travel through time when you didn't completely trust your companion. Starfire came and went, collecting things from the kitchen for some project that could not safely leave her room. The boys gathered around Rorek to show him how to use a Titans' communicator, but as soon as Robin and Cyborg left to get a few hours of late training, Beast Boy resumed the video game lessons.

Eventually Rorek excused himself and retired to his room. He had been holding back all afternoon, but as he left he gave Raven a long lingering look. She read the same line over and over again until he was out of sight.

Even after he left, she found she couldn't concentrate. She was stuck on the look he gave her. It was the look of a man confused, floored as to why she wasn't materializing into the girl he remembered.

She hoped if she kept this up, eventually he would realize she wasn't the person he remembered. She dreaded that moment, too. When he would stop sitting by her, and looking forward to her talking to him, even if she was only harshly interrogating him and not letting him touch her or even speak freely. When he realized she wasn't what he bargained for. Meeting her must have been for him like seeing the stars again after dreaming of them for so long. She too was a dimmed out version of what his Lilja must have been.

Raven only realized she had been pointedly glaring at a dirty spoon sitting on the counter when she felt Beast Boy's eyes on her.

Her green teammate was having one of his uncharacteristic serious moments, looking at her in concern. She rose an eyebrow at him, as if to signal that everything was normal, and he turned back to the movie he was watching.

That little incident convinced her to go back to her room—she phased, for fear of finding Rorek in the hallway.

* * *

After a morning of yet more researching, Raven thought she had it.

The last time she had attempted time travel, it had been a hasty spell to retrieve Cyborg, with Robin breathing down her neck for a solution and the urgency of one of her best friends being lost in time; it had been a one way deal because of the effort it took out of her. But that time, she had needed to _change_ the past—now she only wanted to pop in and take a look. If she was right, she had found a way to make the trip with their astral selves, leaving their bodies behind and preserving both their energies.

Now she just needed the destinations.

The life with Samson and Delilah was an obvious choice. She had pinned down the general date of Samson's death; if she went right before, she would be able to see if the story played out the way Rorek had related. But the whole trip was only useful if she could see the reincarnation cycle in action. She needed at least one more life.

She found Rorek in the kitchen when she went upstairs, along with Robin and Starfire. They sat at the table, looking deep in conversation.

Raven made her way to the stove looking at no one, but she was intercepted halfway through by Starfire.

"Raven! Bertram was telling us of how, where he is from, knights do not partake in the breaking of fast! Did you know this?"

"No," said Raven, though she had known it.

"He says it was left for the children, the elderly, and the sick," Starfire went on, unbothered, as Raven moved past her and concentrated on making tea.

"Which begs the question of what you think of us," said Robin, sipping coffee.

"I think that times have simply changed," replied Rorek diplomatically, and Raven could hear the eagerness to charm and please in his voice.

"How harsh has _that_ been?" asked Robin. "Having to get used to the world as it is now."

Rorek's response was perfectly polite and obscuring. "It's been an adjustment, yes. But I am handling it, all things considered."

There was a pause, and Raven felt curiosity coming from Robin before he said, "Hey, I know you don't want to disclose a lot of things about yourself, so feel free to not answer, but… Are you planning on staying in this time? I mean, you're not trapped anymore. You _could_ go back home, right?"

"I…" Rorek trailed off, and for an awful moment Raven felt sure he was looking at her back. "I understand that I could go back, yes. But it is my intention to stay here. In this time I mean, and in your hospitality as long as you allow me."

"It's not about that, man," Robin said good-naturedly. He saw the mage didn't want to answer, and willingly dropped the subject. "Forget I asked."

With her back to them, Raven's heart sunk. She hadn't realized he could just go back—but he must have realized it, even before Robin suggested it. But she had all but told him the day before that she could manage time travel. Why wouldn't he ask her to drop him in the past? …Was he considering it? Was he looking for a way to ask her to do it?

Starfire piped up, "Oh! Since you did not have the breaking of the fast, we should all have a good lunch! Raven, do you want pizza?"

"Sure," she replied, finding the prospect did cheer her up a little.

"Robin, let us go to the pizza place! It will be faster if we do the picking up ourselves!" She scooped up an unsettled Robin off his chair and then out of the tower, as Raven came to the table with her tea. Oh, her friend was good. Raven hadn't even realized she was trying to leave her and Rorek alone until she and Robin were gone. She felt a pang of remorse, that she was keeping her friend in the dark as to who exactly she was trying so hard to set her up with. She felt even worse when she looked at Rorek.

He was looking down—probably wondering himself what he was still doing here. Raven thought that, if he didn't already want to leave, he soon would, if she continued keeping him at a distance. He would see he had nothing here, and he would ask her to drop him in the past, not even caring if he hurt her—by then he would know she wasn't who he thought she was, and he wouldn't care.

But then he brightened up unexpectedly, and said, perfectly cheerful, "It is still ever so odd to me when I see you, or anyone really, reading a book by themselves. I'm used to books being read aloud to a gathering."

Raven guessed he was talking about her reading the day before—in which case he had saved that comment since then, and kept the thought, and remembered to bring it up the next time she was near. The thought disarmed her, and she found herself answering gently. "I think private reading became a thing around the twelfth century. And then only in France." He looked so delighted she was playing along, that she reeled back. She decided to get to business fast. She glanced at the door quickly before saying, "Rorek, I need to ask you more about the lives you remember."

He straightened. "Of course."

"Was there ever a life where something important happened? Something that would have been recorded in history."

"I think there must be. Why?"

"I need a specific time to orient the travel."

"I can tell you where to go." He looked at her, and must have seen everything he needed to know in her face. "Oh. But you don't trust me enough to let me guide you," he surmised, and fell in thought. "All right. Let me think… There was the time with that volcano… but no, we were common people then. We wouldn't have been mentioned." His brows furrowed as he absent-mindedly tugged at the scarf at his neck. "I know what surely got registered," he said after a few moments. "Around… eight century after Christ. There was a river Trent, in the kingdom of Mercia."

Raven took mental note. "What about it?"

"Its course was changed by a powerful sorceress, Oriel of Van'lanz."

"And, she is…"

He nodded. "You."

"Right." She met his eyes, which was a mistake. His eyes were always so intense, and so full of knowledge, like they could piece her apart with a few seconds' attention, and she couldn't hope to compete. She moved away from the table and made to leave. "I will go look for that."

"Raven," he stopped her when she was almost facing the door. "Did… any of my words stir a memory?"

"No."

"Wait. Please." She heard him stand up hurriedly. "The other day… something happened, didn't it? I thought we were getting along better, but then… Was it because I mentioned the dragon?"

Raven weighed her choices for a moment. Then she turned around. "Why _are_ you here, Rorek?" His face contorted in confusion, so she clarified, "Don't you want to go back to your time? To your wife?"

His face sobered. He looked down, nodding, and Raven held her breath. "My allegiance is divided, and that pains me, I won't deny it. I can't but confess that when you told me yesterday you could tamper with time, I was conflicted. I had ruled out the idea of going back as an impossibility, and I was acting on that presumption. But… I can't leave _you_ like this." He gazed at her, and began to shake his head vehemently, as if trying to convince himself. "No, the past is in the past, and my life has brought me here now."

Raven made herself stone. "I think you should go back, because there's nothing for you here. Better that you find that out now than later. I'll never be what you remember."

Confusion and fear played in his eyes, and it made her want to scream at him. "What do you mean?"

"You want your Lilja, and I'm not her."

He looked at her stunned. But to her dismay, that gave way to some relief. "Is that what worries you?" He chuckled, but saw her face twist in anger, and he stopped himself. "Raven, you _are_ Lilja. Do you really think I wouldn't recognize you? Even if you don't remember me, I do remember you. I'd recognize you anywhere. Through all of time and space."

Raven didn't blink at the pretty words. She cast her eyes away and thought of the temple of Azarath. She thought of the years of learning how to control her emotions, the fear of becoming what everyone said she inevitably would become, the guilt of hiding the truth about herself when she came to Earth—and she thought there was no way those experiences wouldn't change a soul. "A spell could never make me be the same."

"Of course not, all the spell does is lead us to each other." He looked like he was about to argue his point further, but stopped himself. "No matter. It will solve itself when you have seen it with your own eyes. Then you'll see."

His certainty made her anger flare. "Maybe I won't." Her voice sounded somewhat shaky, and she struggled to steady herself—she needed him to understand this was a possibility. "Do you realize that? Maybe I'll see everything there is to see, and I still won't believe you."

Rorek gave her a long look. He was holding back, she could tell, struggling to let her words pass through him without touching him, which was the opposite of what she wanted. "You can be cruel," he finally said. "I guess years of remembering you fondly have made me forget that trait of your personality."

That did it for her. A surge of rage went through her, which made her powers hurl her right up to his face. "Or maybe, the person you remember isn't _here_." She was facing him so he would see what she was, like if she stared right at him, openly, savagely, if she kept showing him her worst, eventually he would be able to tell the difference.

But she would never find out what he had to say to that, because in that moment Cyborg entered the room.

Raven froze. Rorek also froze, his eyes darting towards the new arrival.

After giving another step, Cyborg froze too, taking in the two of them, in close proximity, with both their faces wearing remnants of passion, and having obviously just fallen quiet.

"Um… hell _oo_ ," he started, in a tone undecided between teasing and threatening, that didn't quite know what to make of itself. "Now… what's going on here?"

After debating it a moment, Raven decided the situation was unsalvageable. She turned to her teammate with a death glare. "Oh, _Bertram_ here was only telling me that he met me in several past lives and how we're _totally_ meant to be together."

Cyborg threw his hands up in defense. "Alright, alright, I'll stay out of your business." He opened the fridge and took out a carton of orange juice. "I'm just gonna be over here, riiight on this couch, so don't try nothin' funny." He looked directly at Rorek, who didn't look as much intimidated as utterly lost.

Raven heaved a sigh, closed her eyes, and disentangled from her frustration long enough to phase out of the scene.

* * *

 _Lady Auriolt of Vanlanz_ , read the book, _orphan of origin unknown. Made ruler of Vanlanz by choice of its people in the year of our Lord 747._

Raven had found her, of all places, in a 1555 Romanian account of the old Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. All the details seemed to fit Rorek's tale. Oriel was depicted as a wise-woman who in 752 had changed the course of the river Trent to prevent the flooding of Tamworth, the seat of King Offa.

 _Was granted_ _land and protection by the King_ _as reward for her services_ , the book went on to say. And, after that, _Married Sir_ _Ansel_ _Elzaroth in 753._

Raven didn't have to guess who _that_ was supposed to be.

The other destination she had settled on was 894, in Nol, in the land of Miir. She had always known, since she had first read the book, exactly when and where Rorek had fought Malchior. She was taking them a few days before that. She could only suppose he was already married at that point, or that he at least had met Lilja.

Raven had meditated enough for a week. She had gone through the spell, the dates and the places dozens of times, until all was committed to memory. There were candles and bottles of salts sitting on her desk, ready for use. All she needed to do now was face Rorek, and therefore, the truth—whatever it turned out to be.

It was dusk when she knocked on Rorek's door. When he opened it, it was clear he hadn't been expecting her. He had removed his armor, and was only in the ample black shirt he wore beneath. A knotted necklace hung over his chest. He stepped aside to let her through, and only spoke after he had closed the door. "It's time then?"

"It's time." She quickly began the preparations, though she could feel him watching her.

She used her powers to draw a circle of salt that would contain the both of them, then placed four candles outside of it, one at each cardinal point. He waited until she was done before speaking. "Raven? I do have one request." She turned to him, waiting. "We shall visit all the lives you want—but not my own."

She stared at him.

They were in his room because she didn't want him in hers, and by that point, that was just a mindless precaution on her part. It was just her refusing to replicate the circumstances that had seen her deceived the last time—refusing to stumble on the same stone. Because she could admit by now, at least to herself, that he was probably exactly who he said he was—no matter if his figure sometimes morphed into bad memories.

Somewhere along the way, this plan had become less about proving what he said was true and more about showing him his own past, which she suspected he had forgotten. If she reminded him who Lilja had been, he would realize how misguided he was.

"You had planned to go, hadn't you?" he asked her, watching her expression.

"If you fear a paradox," she said, evenly, "I would have you know that we're just travelling with our soul selves. Not physically."

"No. I just don't want to see Lilja again," he replied slowly, conscious that he was confirming her doubts. Maybe he still believed she only needed to see to be convinced, because he didn't try to dispel them.

Raven simply nodded at him, telling herself that it didn't matter anyway. Maybe seeing the other girls would be enough to open his eyes. She sat inside the circle facing east, and told him to sit in front of her.

"I will need you to clear your head and find your center," she told him when he was seated. "The spell will open a portal. You'll feel your soul separate from your body. You must let it happen."

His brows furrowed. "A portal? That's unorthodox."

"Portals are kind of my thing." She closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing her head. She cracked open one eye one last time. "You'll recognize them, right? When you see them?"

"Yes." Rorek closed his eyes. "And so will you."

When she started chanting, Rorek felt an unearthly wind rise around them, and then something like a buzz over his skin.

"Mentibus Nostris Acrotera," Raven chanted.

The buzz grew into an unmistakable vibration, until it gained such strength that he wasn't sure if he was sitting still anymore. As per her instructions, he let it happen.

"Animus Stameth Nexilos."

He felt as if he was levitating, although the vibrating made it impossible to be sure.

"Mimettan Saeculux er lockum!"

Part of Rorek shot up to the ceiling. He forgot to keep his eyes closed, and had enough time to see a circle of energy surrounding a vortex before he went through it.

* * *

So the Trent is a real river in the UK and it actually had its course altered historically, so my take here is that a witch did it.

Thank you to the people who've been reviewing/following/favoriting! You make me happy :)

Alya.15: Yeeah I debated with myself for a while about that one, but I still think the Titans are all in all a trusting bunch. I mean, after Terra came Val-Yor, and they pretty much fell in love with him instantly, even though he turned out the way he did. That's just my interpretation of it, though. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: Recognition

**Chapter 5. Recognition.**

There were mountains at either side of the road. And in front of them, a fork.

The party of mounted men halted their horses. Ansell, who had stopped them, dismounted and inspected the way before them. He unfolded the map he carried on his belt and peered into it, but it was only to confirm what he already knew.

The road they had been following so far was put down faithfully with all its twists and turns, but there was a point in the map after which the road became a straight line–as if the map believed the deep valleys and mountain passes suddenly turned into a blessed plain with no difficulties of passing. And at no point whatsoever was there a fork.

Ansell wouldn't be too surprised if a certain Chancellor had filled in that absurd line himself, so there could be no argument against them going in this ill-augured journey. He discreetly brought the map closer to his face, to try and discern whether that paint was more recent than the rest, when one of his fellow travelers cleared his throat, causing him to look back at the expectant company.

Ansell was the only one who could read.

"So? What is the path to take?" asked the Commander.

"The path to take is to take both paths," Ansell replied as he rolled the map and put it back on his belt. "And to use the discoveries derived from these explorations to make a _new_ map. One that can succeed in helping future travelers."

"Boy. Do you mean to say the map is useless?"

"Only from this point onwards, sir."

The Commander turned to his second in command. "Cadell. What instructions did Lord Sut give?"

"Go north," the man replied drily.

The Commander sighed heavily. "Well…we can't very well send half the men to one side and half to the other."

"Maybe the roads will unite again," offered his colleague.

"Most like we end up at different sides of a mountain."

Sir Cadell smiled at his old friend. "Pick one, Evrot," he said cheerfully. "I shall take the other one."

And so Ansell and a dozen other men took the left road after their Commander, while the rest of their companions followed Sir Cadell on the right.

Further down the way, the mountains got higher and closer together, beginning to wall them in; the road turned sinewy and so narrow that two men couldn't ride by side. The horses now stepped on wet ground, where the river had recently passed. The warriors rode in tense silence, conscious the Trent might come to sweep them away at any moment.

They had been travelling for a month, to the further and higher parts of the land, in pursuit of a village no one from the capital had stepped foot on in two generations. The fabled Vanlanz was said to have been settled on the bank of the Trent, the same river that over the past year had had a rapid growth and threatened to flood the entire realm. The village should have been destroyed years ago, and yet –travelers insisted- life there thrived. They were on a trek to that forsaken land to obtain the secret to its survival.

Ansell very much expected all the accounts to be wrong, and to come upon the rotted ruins of a flooded town—that is, if the river didn't get them first. He also wasn't comforted by the fact that the thirty men in his party had all been picked from the lowest orders of warriors: second and third sons, old knights, young boys.

Ansell, as a second son of the lower branch of a family of good name, stood as the most learned member of the company. He'd had the luck to be educated in his uncle's family, and had been chosen for the mission because they needed at least one person who could read and write, as well as parley and negotiate. When the company had called on his uncle's house looking for warriors, they had bypassed his older, nobler cousins and picked out him. Now he understood why.

But then, what could they do but obey? They were still king's men, sworn to his service. Low as they may be, if they had no honor on top of that, they truly had nothing.

Ansell was so focused on minding his horse's step, and so resigned to this being a fruitless journey, that he only looked up when he heard someone cry, "Praise the Lord, there it is!"

And there it was. The path dipped into a valley, across which ran a thread of water –the Trent, in its non-threatening version- and right next to it was Vanlanz, with its houses whole, smoke coming out of chimneys, and the noise of bustling life. It was hard not to send their horses into a gallop after the thrill of the discovery, when the hope swelled in their chests that they might just find success in this journey.

"Walk!" warned the Commander knowingly. "We don't want 'em to think we're attacking."

The stone gates remained closed even as the group had almost gained them. Ansell was beginning to think they would have to pound the doors, when the gate opened and out came a dozen mounted men.

"Who are you?" one demanded.

"I'm sir Evrot Urry, commanding the roving guard of King Offa," the Commander replied. "We come in peace. We seek an audience with the lord of the town."

"There is no lord. The lady Oriel governs."

"We would talk to her, then."

The guard stuck his chin out at the Commander. "We are to allow an envoy to enter the town," he said. "Choose one man to assist you and follow us."

The Commander looked at Ansell, as the younger man had anticipated.

The two were silent as they followed the guards into town. They walked their horses through a market street packed full of people, who stopped what they were doing to gaze at the strangers from a fearful distance. Clearly, the town seldom got visitors.

Ansell watched his surroundings closely. Vanlanz looked coarse and ancient, all stone stacked on top of each other in unstable-looking constructions that nonetheless seemed to have been standing for a good hundred years. He did not notice any ditches carved or banks put up along the river line. There had been theories of an underground drainage system; if that was the case, he saw no sign of it yet.

The castle walls were of the same solid stone that surrounded the town. They were admitted into the courtyard and told to wait.

Ansell didn't wait for the Commander to ask him to take the horses away. He took both reins and made for the stables, because as well as spokesperson and letter-writer, he served as squire. He walked away and hoped the guards were too busy watching sir Evrot to notice him.

He found a stable boy, a young child maybe seven years old, which he thought was better than nothing. He gave him the reins, telling him, "Take good care of our horses. They have been carrying us from far, far away."

"Have they, sir?" The boy returned with childish formality. He seemed as fearful as his fellow townspeople.

Ansell didn't correct the boy—perhaps it was better if he thought Ansell was a knight. He kneeled down and smiled at him. "All the way from Tamsworth, the seat of the king. My companions and I are come to ask your good town for help, if you would be so kind as to give it."

That caught the boy's curiosity. "Our help? What'd you need us for? Sir."

"Why, you live next to a river that should flood you, yet you thrive. How can that be, if not you have a way of defending yourselves that we don't have?"

"But we're protected by lady Oriel."

"Oh? How so?"

"She controls the tides so they never flood us." At Ansell's still expectant expression, the boy grinned, showing three missing teeth. "It's because the gods chose her, so she can lead and protect us."

A man emerged and shouted at the boy to get to work, eying the stranger warily, so Ansell nodded at him and left the stables, deep in thought. He couldn't tell the Commander what he had discovered, as they were being watched closely by the guards, but he concluded that the situation was worse than he had thought.

A monarch who had convinced her people she was in contact with a higher power was dangerous. She would be political ruler and religious leader all in one woman. More dangerous still, judging by the way both the common people and her knights spoke of her, she was even _loved_. And that wasn't even the worst part.

 _Gods_ , the boy had said. _Gods, not God_. If the townspeople's behavior had made Ansell suspect, now he knew for sure. This town was still Pagan. No wonder they were wary of strangers—they must live in constant fear of an army from the capital coming to force them under the Christian rule. It would have pleased them all to know the king was too deep in problems from home to worry about faraway, isolated towns.

He and sir Evrot were ushered in a tall hall. Inside, the air was cool, as if untouched by the summer day outside. It took Ansell a while to adjust his eyes to the dimly lit room, but he stopped walking when he heard his escorts did, and when they went down on one knee, he had the sense to do the same. Next to him, the Commander grunted as he was pushed to the ground.

In front of him, a set of stairs led to a platform, where he gradually made out seven people on seven chairs, the one in the middle raised higher than the others.

"My lady, the messengers of King Offa. They claim to come in peace."

"Rise," said the lady, her deep voice ringing clear in the hall. Ansell got to his feet. His vision had cleared enough for him to see the person he was honoring. Lady Oriel didn't seem moved by his reverence, either to satisfaction or distaste. Her slight frame remained still and solemn on the raised seat; her expression remained severe. She was young –she couldn't be over twenty-, with dark olive skin, and black hair pulled back decisively on a long braid. Big dark eyes on a small pointed face. Ansell realized he was staring and cast his eyes down. Nobody had thought to warn him that she was beautiful.

He was suddenly much aware how travel-weary and dirty he was.

"Now tell us," she said, in the same deep voice. "Who are you, and what is your business with this dwelling?"

Ansell took a deep breath and looked bravely up. "My name is Ansell Elzaroth. This is Commander Sir Evrot Urry. And we are here, my lady, to humble ourselves and ask for your help."

"We have no men to spare, nor resources or commodities," she said. "Whatever the predicament be that threatens the king, we will not take sides. This land remains neutral."

 _This town is so small and ill-defended_ , thought Ansell. _What gives her the courage to speak like that?_ He almost smiled at her unwavering way, before he caught himself—he was at court, and in hostile lands as well. But he couldn't help it. Something about her felt familiar. He felt at peace watching her delicate features; something about her voice made him feel at home. And he could tell, from the way she glared down at him from her seat, that she wasn't nearly as impressed with him.

Ansell forced himself to go on. "Then I am glad to say we want nothing so substantial. What we seek is knowledge. Your town is a mystery to us. You live by a river that floods you all year long, yet you thrive. We are being threatened by that same river now. We come to ask the secret of your survival."

Lady Oriel paused for a second. "We are allowed to live on by divine will. I am afraid I cannot transfer such kindness."

Ansell didn't take his eyes off her as he weighed his options. "I was under the impression you had the ability to _steer_ such kindness."

At last, he had surprised her. He saw the slightest widening of her eyes, before she regained herself. Her court wasn't so subtle; his declaration awoke murmurs all around him. Ansell predicted that his Commander, next to him, was the only person in the room who didn't know what he was talking about.

The Lady let the whispering die down. When she spoke again, her eyes bore holes into Ansell's. "Wherever you got that information from, you are mistaken. I assure you no one in this town has the power to help you. Such is the message you must bring back your king." She rose from her seat, and Ansell got the sense that that meant she had reached a decision. "Where is the rest of this troupe?"

The guard next to Ansell spoke up. "They are outside the village, accompanied by the rest of my lady's guard."

"I have now seen this strangers," she announced to the court at wide. "And I am satisfied that they indeed come in peace. They shall stay in the Guest Keep for as long as they need to recover, and prepare for the journey back."

Her announcement was met with strong demonstrations. The people at court whispered to each other; the council beneath her spoke their protests. From a man at her right, Ansell could make out, "Here, my lady? …Keep is…"

Lady Oriel listened to her council with equanimity. Something she heard from them must have given her pause. She rose a hand to make the clatter stop, and regarded Ansell. "Sir. How did you know where to find us?"

"We did not know, exactly," he answered truthfully. "Half of our troupe is trying to find you on the other side of the mountains as we speak. These are uncharted lands. We were guided only by accounts of a few travelers who have seen you." And because he had nothing to lose, and much to gain in the way of her trust, Ansell produced the map from his belt. "This is all we know of you." He held the rolled paper out in her general direction, and watched her descend the steps herself, ignoring the guards who had moved to assist her. Ansell watched her, and acted like he wasn't thrilled to be able to observe her features up close. When she closed her hand around the paper, her fingers lightly brushed his. That was enough.

At first he didn't know what was happening. Then he knew everything at once. Images of other lives supplanted his vision of the hall. Memories of things he had never seen in his lifetime were returned to him, as natural and close as if he had always possessed them.

All of it must have lasted a split second—then the hall came back, and there was Oriel, in front of him, eyes wide in confusion.

The sound came back next: a clang of steel and a shout of ' _Careless boy! You'll lose that hand!_ '. Ansell looked down. The map was on the ground, half open. "A million pardons," he kneeled to grab it, and offered the rolled paper by one end this time. "…my lady."

Oriel averted her eyes as she rolled it open. She studied the paper for a while, but he thought she held it longer than it should have taken to decipher the map. When she returned the map, she met his eyes for a moment, enough for his heart to stop, but not enough for him to detect what the look meant. Was she looking at him with new eyes? Was there a hint of recognition there, or was he imagining it?

He was only vaguely aware of the Commander coming up behind him and shouting a plea up at Oriel and the council, only to be pulled back by the guards. Ansell himself had fallen into silence; there were so many things rushing through his head, that he wouldn't have known where to start.

They were led away from the hall and towards the Guest keep, where their companions joined them shortly. Ansell was living half in the present, half in his newfound memories. He was in such a deep haze, he only broke out of it when he was informed that sir Evrot wanted him.

Said man was pacing in front of a group of the most seasoned soldiers when Ansell arrived. He gestured at a clutter of paper and ink and quill. "Write the king. Inform that we found the town and its lady ruler refused us help. Mention her name in there. We'll renew our plea tomorrow, methinks." He glowered at Ansell. "Start thinking of how to convince the girl to do her duty by her rightful king."

One of the other men spoke—Sir Rampling, a skinny knight with a cruel face. "The girl is stubborn. She will refuse again, my good sir."

"Then so be it," said the Commander. "In that case we're in for the shortest siege in history. The child already let us inside her walls. We call for an army, and we'll open the gates for them ourselves."

Ansell felt his throat tighten as he looked from sir Evrot to the other men, who murmured their agreement. "We… came here in peace," he heard himself say.

The Commander fixed his cold eyes on him. "Ansell. You're an even bigger fool than your father if you believe that sort of thing stands at a time like this. We came in peace, aye—until the bitch refused us. Now, as far as king's laws are concerned, she's an outlaw, and her entire town as well. Write the letter, boy."

That night, Ansell made for sleep closest to the door. It wasn't hard, as everyone else sought out the warmth of the fire. He lay in the darkness and waited, finding more than enough entertainment in wading through his newfound memories. Wondering what Oriel was doing at the moment; if she too was marveling in recalling their past lives. Once he was certain everyone was asleep, he slipped out the door.

He walked in the shadows of the courtyard, carefully avoiding guards, stopping frequently to make sure he hadn't been followed. He ambled through the night until he finally came across at a door unguarded. By the looks of the building it was a kitchen or servants' wards. He banged on the door and waited. After a while, the flap of the peep hole was pulled back, and a woman's face eyed him through the barred gap. She did a double take when she saw his uniform. "What ails you, sir?"

Ansell understood he had happened upon a healer or a midwife's quarters. It occurred to him that he should pretend to be in pain, but he discarded the thought immediately. He was a bad liar—he could never get past the guilt, and it gave him away. "I need to speak with the lady Oriel."

The woman looked at him like he was crazy. "My lady will not see you."

"Please—tell her I'm out here. Tell her I'm the one who spoke today in the hall. I have things to say to her she will want to hear about."

The woman studied him for a moment, and closed the flap without another word. Ansell stood in the shadow, fearing she wouldn't return, or that she'd return with guards, but he forced himself to wait. After what felt like hours, he heard the clank of chains on the other side, and the door opened. The woman observed him in distrust, but ushered him inside, and instructed him to follow a young boy waiting by a doorway.

The boy led him through a corridor cast in shadows, up a set of stairs, into another, thinner corridor, and finally into what Ansell first mistook for an interior garden. The small room sported potted plants aligned in the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and covering every flat surface.

"Please wait here," the boy told Ansell, before disappearing through another door.

It wasn't long before Lady Oriel appeared, her braid tousled from sleep and a cross expression on her face. Two women walked behind her: a crone he had seen at the council table, and a young servant girl.

He bowed. "My lady."

"What do you want, sir Ansell?"

Ansell knew she wouldn't like him stalling. "I would have you rethink your decision, my lady."

She frowned. "That of letting you inside my town? I already am."

 _You don't know how right you are_ , thought Ansell, though he was stung by her harsh words.

She walked towards a window, the torch behind her making light dance on her back, surmising her face in darkness. "What makes you think what you say to me in private will sway the resolve I've expressed before my people?" Her tone gave him pause. She was regarding him as a proper lady might regard any stranger of uncertain alliance who showed up in the middle of the night—but he was no stranger.

She had recognized him, surely—it always happened like that. And yet her manner was making him doubt: if she remembered him, why would she not trust him? _Please_ , he thought, _know who I am_.

"I have hopes to settle this peacefully," he said, willing her to look at him. "If you continue to refuse us it may not be resolved peacefully. The king can mobilize armies-"

"The king has more warriors than he knows what to do with, I know," she snapped. "I assure you, we know more about you than you know about us."

"Then you know what might happen if word gets to the capital." He saw her pause, and launched his main point. "I am mainly here to warn you. My Commander is talking of laying siege to the village."

Oriel kept her eyes on the window and didn't react, but the old woman in the back took the word and approached Ansell. "Is this some trick, boy?" She peered at his face closely. "Did your men send you to instill fear in our hearts, under the guise of a worried alerter?"

"Nobody knows I'm here," he told the woman, looking her in the eye so she knew he was in earnest. He looked back at Oriel. "But, my lady, all we are asking is for you to share your gift. If you don't help, the city will be flooded in days."

"I understand you wanting to save your home," said Oriel, in a softer voice. "But if I leave, Vanlanz will be flooded instead. Even if your king did _not_ mean to have me captured the moment I arrived, I would return to find my town ruined, my people perished."

"The king would not do that. Not if you go willingly."

She finally faced him. Her eyes burned with anger. "You should go, sir. I won't bend to will and you won't forsake your dear king."

"To my will?" he repeated, stunned. "I'm here for _you_ —to warn you-"

"And would you fight for _me_ , if it came to war?"

Ansell stopped short. _To fight for her_. He knew he should—it was _her_. And yet….

He imagined his old companions seeing him on the other side. Being known for a traitor. The dishonor on his village when they brought the word back to his family.

She was looking at him with sober eyes. "We're on opposing sides. Do you see now?"

Ansell stood there, speechless. _But we have been before_ , he wanted to say. He tried to dig up a memory to prove it, but then she was speaking again. "I can't ask you to change your allegiance for me, any more than you can ask me to leave my home at its peril to serve your king."

She turned her back on him and Ansell felt sick. That sounded too much like she meant to part with him for good. "Oriel?"

Her face was steel again when she called, "Guard." A man entered through the door Oriel had entered from. "Escort our guest back to the Guest Keep."

The guard moved to grab Ansell and shove him out of the room. If Ansell had called Oriel's name, she might have turned around; but he didn't know what to say, so he let the guard shove him out of the room.

The next day, Ansell went through the pantomime of presenting himself at court and renewing the plea for help, to which Oriel returned the same refusal. Sir Evrot had Ansell write a letter beseeching the king for an army to take the castle by force, and said they would renew the plea at court every day until the army arrived, to keep up the charade.

They might have languished there, eating the town's food and keeping its people on edge with their presence, while Ansell's peers dreamt of battle, and Ansell himself scoured his brain for a way to get through to Oriel.

However, the Trent had plans of its own.

Ansell and some of his companions were in a tavern when the commotion started. First they heard the shouts, accompanied by a murmur on the background that they only later understood to be the water. When they grasped what was going on, the warriors pooled out onto the street, not knowing whether they would get to experience the town's protective device they had come seeking, or get to watch the town's demise from a front row seat.

The castle bell rang. Its sound carried through town, and seemed to cast a spell over the people, instantly calming them down. It made no sense to the warriors, as the rustle of water got louder and louder, until by all means it should be running over them at any second.

Finally the water appeared—right above their heads. Fingers of water became a steady rush, covering the town like a crystalline blanket. Underneath the shifting rays of sunlight shining through the water, the villagers returned to their lives.

That was why they saw her. In the midst of bursting life, the sole figure standing still was Oriel, in the middle of the street, with arms raised and eyes glowing white, conducting the tide. People drew a wide circle around her; even playing children steered clear of their lady.

Only the king's men stood motionless, staring at the girl in shock and fear. Ansell understood all at once why she couldn't afford to leave the town, and felt a sense of dread spread throughout his body. His companions knowing about her power could not bring anything good. As long as they thought the town's defense was a mechanism, a device, or a piece of knowledge, she was safe. But now….

The Commander exploded when he found out.

"Sorcery! We come all this way and the answer is _magic_! How's his Grace gonna like that, huh? Damn witches. Ansell! There you are! Now, how do you propose we report this without making fools of ourselves?"

Before Ansell could come up with an answer, Sir Rampling spoke. "M'lord, we don't need to say anything of the sort. We don't even need to wait for an army." Ansell had never liked the knight's cruel smile, even less so when he wore one to say, "We need only kidnap the girl, take her to the king, and have her do her tricks there."

Sir Evrot looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you saying? We would need to infiltrate her quarters."

"We're already inside the castle walls. How many men can there be between here and the main keep?"

"The keep is particularly ill-protected, m'lord," added another man.

As the Commander looked off in thought, Sir Rampling got closer. "To be hailed as heroes, sir Evrot. Think of it. We will forever be the men who brought salvation to the city, single-handedly."

The Commander remained sober, which gave hope. But then he addressed Ansell saying, "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Write that we are returning with the key to prevent the flood."

Ansell wrote slowly and listened as the men discussed the particulars of their new plan. That night, he waited until the pigeon was dispatched, then put an arrow through it.

The next time he could safely get away from the rest of the men, he found Oriel wasn't in the main keep. He coaxed a serving boy until he was informed the lady was getting a read of the river by the southern bank. The column of knights he found guarding her when he arrived there didn't discourage him; he went to one and simply asked to be let through. The particular guard he addressed only told him to turn around and go back to his own peers, but the one next to him looked ready to stab him right where he stood.

Oriel luckily saw the disruption in time. "Let him through." Her voice rang out clear, and the guards stepped aside.

"Sir Ansell. You shouldn't be here in open daylight."

"I'm no knight, my lady," he informed her this time. "Not quite yet."

She didn't take her eyes away from the river. "Will you be knighted for persuading me to go to the king?"

He got to her side. "I won't be taking you to the king, Oriel. You were right. If you go, they'll never let you leave."

She gave him a long, wary look. "What will your companions think of that?"

"I do not care. If it comes to war, I'm for you."

Her eyes widened and then softened. "I don't ask that from you, Ansell," she said in an earnest voice. "I said it before and I'll say it again- you don't need to change your loyalty to me. Just…" She dropped her eyes, took a deep breath and gazed at the water. "Just don't use our history to convince me to follow you."

He looked at her in astonishment. "I would not do that. That's dishonorable." He spoke in slow amazement, embittered that he had to explain this to someone who should know much better. "It's as if you don't know me."

"I don't. Not really. Not in this life." She spoke softly, but faced him defiantly.

"You know my soul. That is what matters most."

"How am I to know something didn't happen to you in this life that changed you as a person? For that matter, how do you know _I_ am what you expect? What you remember?"

It hadn't occurred to him to doubt it.

Two days ago Ansell had woken up not knowing what his purpose in life was, what he wanted out of it, to what goals he should direct his efforts. Now he had a reason to stay alive, a place to direct his loyalty, a North to guide him. The sensation of wanderlust that had lived in him since he could remember had disappeared. Everything was clear now. He was home.

"I just know," he answered.

But he was calmer now she was expressing herself, and so he was beginning to understand her point of view, as he reflected and remembered.

In many lives they had met as children, or had otherwise known each other from afar before they came into contact. This was not the first time they were on opposing sides, but it probably _was_ the first time they barely had time to meet before being thrown in a conflict.

"It has been a couple hundred years," said Oriel in a soft voice. "But I think I'm still getting used to this… reincarnation affair."

"Well, I think it's wonderful that we're still discovering new things about each other after all these years," he said truthfully.

She smiled at him, her dark cheeks reddened, and it was enough to make him want to gather her in his arms and kiss her. She must have seen the intention in his eyes; her eyes fluttered towards her guards and then she dropped her gaze.

He glanced at the column of warriors, sneaking obvious glances at the two of them. "Do they always watch you like hawks?"

She smiled towards the water. "They are not blind, Ansell. They're just afraid that the future of their home lies on something as uncertain as young passion."

"Young? Our souls are older than any of theirs."

There was laughter in her eyes as she chided him, "You don't know if any of them haven't been reincarnated as well. _We_ just made certain we would remember it." She grew serious. "But none of them will talk to your people about this."

"I do not care."

"Yes you do. I know you do." She faced him. Her tone wasn't angry as much as vehement. "If you're truly the person I remember, I know you do care. And it's all right. I'll make sure no one knows you helped me. When we solve this, you'll still be in good standing with your king." Her eyes bore into him. "You don't have to choose this time."

Ansell wanted to protest, but slowly, looking into her eyes, he understood there was no point in hiding—not from her. He nodded his thanks, admitting her words.

"Is that what you came to tell me?" Oriel asked then. "That I should stay here?"

He sobered. "No." He told her of the Commander's intention to kidnap her as soon as possible.

She took the information with a frown. Then she said, "Good. They are giving us an excuse to fight them. And worry not—that keep is good at looking undermanned, but it is deadly to those who don't know it well."

"I still think you should comply with their request. Please hear me," he said before she could protest. "If you do as they ask they cannot harm you. That is your protection. But whatever we do, it has to be done from here."

She bit her lip and looked off to the water, full of doubts.

"We will solve this," he promised her. He was itching to at least hold her hand, but he contented himself with words for the time being. "I'm here now. It's going to be all right."

On the edges of the scene, Raven signaled to Rorek that she had seen enough, and they continued their way.

* * *

The whole of this chapter began with a prompt I'm pretty sure was from donjon, and I can't find it again but it went something like 'There's a fork on the road unmarked in any map'. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6: Rebirth

**Chapter 6. Rebirth.**

From the moment that door closed, their fates were sealed and everything changed. Samson and Delilah looked at each other in the suddenly darkened environment, as if asking each other what to do next. Then Samson smiled, and Delilah jumped into his arms, and they laughed. They had traded sunshine and ample houses for the chance of being together in peace, and it had been an easy choice.

The house they had chosen was covered in weeds, and smelled of dust and sour wine, but it had a bed and a table with chairs, a solid door and three good windows, and they needed nothing more.

The first thing Delilah did was place a charm on the door that discouraged people from nearing it. The second thing she did was cut her hair. She had gone her whole life wishing she could do it, and now she finally could. Now the short curls circled her small face like a cloud, soft and thick. Her lover told her it was beautiful on her.

Slowly they built a routine. Delilah would wake up first and tally the days in a roll of parchment. They got out the scrolls on history and magic and literature they had managed to carry with them, and read them aloud to each other. In the dead of night, Delilah opened the door and used a charm to lure animals towards the house, which took care of food for a few days.

The days passed languid and peaceful. Delilah laughed more than she had in her entire life. Samson forgot he had ever been had the fate of an entire nation over his shoulders. There was no more hiding, running, or living on stolen moments. The days and hours were theirs to dispose of as they wanted. Together, they carved the illusion that they were the only ones in the world.

They could have stayed in that high forever. But then the fires began.

They could see from one of their windows when the Philistine soldiers burst into a nearby house, rushed its inhabitants outside, tore through it, and then burned it down. Samson and Delilah didn't need to hear to understand what was happening. When a house failed to yield the hidden Samson, it got burned to the ground.

Another night brought another fire. Every new house dimmed the light in Samson's eyes a bit more.

It was only a matter of time until they were found out, now. The Philistines had been picking all the wrong houses so far, but eventually they'd get it right, and Delilah's spell wouldn't hold against a willful choice.

Samson made himself watch every single wreckage. Delilah saw the change in his manner, and regarded it with shock. She realized she had misunderstood him during the short time they had known each other. He had been so eager to leave with her, so sure and earnest, she had thought he didn't care for his people and his assigned role. But he _had_ cared—he had simply loved her more. He had simply been reckless, and not thought things through. Perhaps he hadn't realized he was forsaking one world for the other; perhaps he hadn't known the force of regret until he saw the effect of his rebellion on the flames engulfing his people's homes.

Delilah watched his forlorn form staring out the window, and wondered if she had always known their life together had an expiration date. Maybe she had—maybe she'd just ignored that to have a little more time with him.

Because she knew now that he ached to leave—to go up in arms against the soldiers, to take revenge for each one of his people who had been terrorized. There was only one thing keeping him in hiding, and it was her. On his own, he must have arrived at the same conclusion she had: there was no way she was getting out of this alive.

If they went back to their old, separate lives, the Philistines would kill her for failing to deliver him. If Samson took her to his home, one of his people would end up killing her, from mistrust or revenge or a combination of both. Not even the mighty Samson could watch over her day and night.

So she decided to cut his agony short. One day, he was sitting in front of their window, perhaps reliving the carnage of the night before. The afternoon sun crept through the crevices of the wall and shone on his brown skin. He seemed to her older and sadder than she had ever seen him. She went to him and hugged him from behind. He held her hands with one of his.

"You must go and defend them," she told him.

The breath caught in his throat. He turned to her, and looked stunned, even betrayed, but more real and present than he had looked in days. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "That's not who I am anymore."

"Yes it is. You will always be their hero. It's your fate—what you were put in the world to do."

"Fate?" he repeated. He looked at her like he didn't know who she was anymore. She kept strong, and kept looking him in the eye. He chuckled, all panic and no humor. "You talk to me about fate now? Whatever happened to being my own man?"

"You've done that. Now it's time for both of us to go back to our real lives."

He rose from his seat and took her hands in his. "Delilah. You can't go out there," he said slowly, gently. "Your people will kill you if you don't deliver me."

So they were talking on _those_ terms. Delilah was taken aback. She hadn't expected him to be so direct, and acknowledge the danger she faced. She'd just expected him to let her feed him the lie that all would be fine. She'd thought he would play along. He really was a far cry from the carefree, pampered boy she had met, Delilah thought. She reproached herself for her part in that change.

She slipped her hand from his grasp, and took a new approach. "I knew that when I came here," she said, firmly. Bluntness it was.

He still looked shocked. Delilah found herself wondering what else he had expected. He took a step back, shaking his head. "And I'm meant to let you give up your life for me? And then go on living as if nothing happened?"

"Yes," she replied, unwavering.

He looked almost angry at her. "No," he retorted. He said it so decisively that for one moment Delilah let herself hope—maybe he had found a solution, maybe there was hope for them both. "That's not what's going to happen." He walked closer and cupped her face in his hands. " _You_ will go back to your people. They will accept you after you've turned me in."

Delilah peered into his eyes. Was he suggesting a ruse? But no, such a plan didn't match his sad eyes and decisive tone. He couldn't really mean…

"This morning I touched the carcass of the lion you brought in last night."

Delilah's eyes widened. She was brought back to the time he told her, against her own best judgment, how the secret of his strength lay in the oaths he had to keep to his God. Not to cut his hair, not to drink wine, not to touch the dead. "What could possess you to do something like that?" she spat. "Do you…" she was almost afraid to ask. "Do you still have…-?"

"I still have my strength." He sounded even disappointed. "It would seem I must break all three of my oaths to get rid of it."

" _Don't_ break any more," she said, deeply relieved and launching into a plan. "Listen. I will pretend to deliver you. I will tell them you're powerless."

"And when I run away, or defeat them, they will see the truth. And make you pay. The deal was for you to deliver me subdued—I heard them."

She tore away from him. "I refuse to be a tool in your demise."

"And I refuse to watch as they hang you for treason. We must reach a compromise."

"You dying is no compromise." She whipped around, despairing. "There _is_ no possible compromise," she concluded. "If we leave this room, one of us dies."

"And it should be me," he said quietly. "I'm the one who vanquished my people, stilted my duty. This would cleanse me. It will redeem me and save _you_."

He advanced towards her but she moved out of reach. "Forget _me_. You want to make it up to your people? Be there for them. You are their chosen one, I'm just a dime a dozen, my people won't miss me." Delilah couldn't care less about his people, her people, about anyone that wasn't the two of them—she was just grasping at straws trying to get him not to do this.

" _I_ will miss you. _I_ will know. And Delilah… _I'm_ the one who failed. It should be me who pays." He wrapped his arms around her, and this time she let him. "I never wanted this power. And now I have to accept that it will make me lose you? And for what? For the benefit of going back to being a puppet again? No, it should be me, in a thousand ways. Then they will not define me anymore. And they get to have a new hero who's worthy of their love. And you," he pulled her closer, " _you_ _get to be safe_."

He looked into her eyes, and she understood him even more then. She saw how much he was being torn apart, how much the guilt he carried was strong enough to eat at him. How it would consume him.

Delilah caressed his sweet suffering face. She was decisive when she spoke. "Then we both die."

Hours later, she watched as he took an experimental swig of one of the wine casks left behind on the house. He grimaced, and she didn't know whether the wine had gone bad or the taste was just strange to his lips. Either way, he must have concluded that was enough, because he set the cask aside and went to pick up a pair of scissors.

Seeing him begin to collect one of his locks, Delilah got up, saddled by a sudden urge, and crossed the room to him.

"Wait. Don't."

"Delilah…" he began, about to try and convince her again.

"I'll do it."

She took the scissors from his hands and took him towards the bed. There she took the time to caress each of the seven magnificent ropes of hair. When he had first told her where his power came from, it had seemed obvious all of a sudden. _How could the rest of the world not see it?_ she thought. His hair was obviously special.

The last tie to his superhuman power rested on her hands. Was his god looking over them now, waiting for the moment to cut ties with his rebellious hero? She looked at him, so sure of what he was doing. He even smiled at her in tender encouragement, like she wasn't about to doom him.

She cut the first strand, cutting through thick, strong hair that had never been hurt this way. After the first one, it was easier. She cut the rest in a sort of trance.

Afterwards, she looked at the locks littering the bed and the floor. It was probably the knowledge of what she'd done, but Samson looked so _human_ to her now. Was it done? Was he alone in the world now, unassisted by divine power—like her, like the rest of the world?

Samson quit the bed and took the lion carcass in his hands. He lifted it slowly—she had never seen him take his time lifting something before. The muscles tensed and relaxed as he set it back down, and stared at it.

Delilah watched with her heart on her throat. "So?" she asked quietly, hoping with all her might that he had been lied to—that the oaths meant nothing and he still remained strong; that his God had cheated or decided to spare him—that somehow he still remained strong.

He turned towards her and smiled, looking almost cheerful. "Harmless as a kitten." She couldn't return his smile, so she cast her eyes down.

Samson came back to her, stroked a finger across her jawline, guided her mouth to his. "You did well, my love. You did so well."

The night before they were to leave the house, Samson kneeled next to her, and took one of her hands. The new powerless version of him looked strangely peaceful. "My one regret is that I would like to have married you," he told her. "I wanted to be with you forever."

Delilah's face was somber. By that point the grief was so deep that the only thing keeping her from crying was that it was pointless. "What's the use of marriage?" she replied. "It's only until death do us part, isn't it? And if all goes as we expect that will be very soon. Surely it's downright useless to be joined for so little time."

Samson looked at her for a long time, as if he was trying to commit her face to memory. "Make one last spell with me then."

Delilah watched him as he gathered scraps of parchment and ink. She sat up. "What kind of spell?"

"A second chance. A desperate second chance."

She had been right when she thought he looked especially cheerful tonight. There was a vibrancy in his eyes as she hadn't seen in a long while, when he took her hands and said, "It is not marriage I propose. Would you care for a second life with me?"

She peered into his face, surprised. "Reincarnation?" He looked at her, expectant, hopeful. "It's against the rules."

"And we more than deserve it."

"We don't know what the future will bring," she argued. "It might not even work. That kind of magic…-"

"It's a hope, Delilah," he said, sobering. "Nothing more. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. But if it works…" he trailed off, smiling wistfully.

She couldn't help but smile along with him. "You're condemning yourself to several lifetimes with me," she finished, smirking.

He laughed, cupping her face and bringing her forehead to his. "You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't mock me at a time like this."

"But I mean it." She pulled away and looked him in the eye. "Are you sure?"

He just smiled at her. "Words aren't enough," he said softly.

It was all she needed. She slowly nodded along with him, then nodded to her left. "Bring me that bowl over there."

For the next period of time they worked on the spell. Delilah and Samson sat with the parchment and quill they thought they would never use, and discussed the wording. Even as a groundless hope, it was a last creation together. Samson was vibrant. Delilah found herself smiling back, for the first time in days, if only because she felt like she had the man she loved back.

In the end the parchment said,

 _Two souls caught in hatred's vicious clutch_

 _By the stars, shall meet again_

 _Come from afar_

 _And with a touch_

 _All their memories reclaim_

They submerged it in the bowl with water, and watched as the ink came away in swirls. In turns they drank the bitter water, until the parchment alone remained, wet and blank at the bottom of the bowl.

Later, as they prepared to open the door in daylight for the first time since they arrived, Delilah almost didn't feel the old dread she had been nursing for days. Samson kissed her lips before they opened the door.

"I'll see you soon, my love."

* * *

Raven opened her eyes to the stillness of the room. She got the usual sensation of sudden silence that came with the end of an astral trip. The Tower came back—the familiarity of her home, the well-known emotional stamps of the four people she lived with. Rorek's soul returned to him as well, and he opened his eyes. Above them, the portal closed.

Night had fallen in around them, and two of the four candles had burned out. Raven moved her dead legs and stood up shakily. Rorek mirrored her.

For a while there was silence.

Raven could see Rorek was trying to be patient, though he couldn't help being eager. She knew she should say something to end the suspense.

"I was always short," was what came out.

Rorek looked surprised, and then he started to smile. "Yes. You were." It was like turning on a faucet, all the words came gushing out. "You always wanted short hair, too. I'm glad you finally get to have it. Most times, tradition prevented you from cutting it, so you'd put it up and never take it down."

Raven touched her hair absent-mindedly. She had always thought Azar was to blame for her hairstyle, since she had gotten her hair cut in the same way since she could remember. Now she realized there was something intrinsic in her that favored short hair. "You could've told me," she murmured.

"Would it have made a difference?"

Raven thought back to the girls she saw. It had been so odd. Hearing the words she would have said, coming out of the mouth of another girl. Seeing her own expressions play out in faces that looked different.

"No," she decided. "Not until I saw it for myself."

She hadn't thought it possible. She'd been raised by the monks of Azarath, and she'd always thought that was the biggest part of why she was the way she was. Turns out she would have been herself anyhow. She couldn't help but smile at the thought.

She looked up at him. "You showed me other Ravens. Who I might have been, in other circumstances. And they…" she trailed off, smiled. "They weren't that much different from me. That was something I never thought I needed to see, but I did. Thank you for that."

Despite the suspense, she could see he that made him glad. "Now you understand how easy it is for me to recognize you."

"I think I do." She stared at him, so full of hope and fear. Not daring to ask, but daring to dream. "You do that every time, don't you? Put too much importance in the past," she said, thinking of Ansel and Oriel. "One life _is_ enough to change everything." A flash of fear crossed his face, and so she smiled reassuringly, glad to say what she was about to say. "But I don't think it has to be this one."

He did a double take, and looked at her like he didn't dare to hope. "You mean…?"

Raven crossed the room to where he was.

She still didn't know what Lilja was like. She didn't know if she, Raven, would be what he expected. But now she knew they had never truly known if it would work out. She was ready to emulate her own past selves and take a leap of faith. She was ready to be brave and trust.

"I don't need the memories to choose you," she told him. Then she smiled softly and held her hand out. "But I'd like to be able to touch you, so I'll take my memories back now, please."

It took a lot out of Rorek to take a moment to steady himself, before he complied.

When his fingers brushed hers, the world split open. Raven remembered places she had never set foot on with this body, people she had never met, moments she had never lived. A hand holding hers and another under her elbow helped support her as she attempted to keep her emotions in check.

"Easy, love. That's three millennia you're getting back," came Rorek's voice.

When the memories dispelled, there he was, looking truly calm for the first time since he arrived at the tower. There was nothing more to be said; he was finally empty of all he had carried.

For a while she just watched him—feeling the comfort of finally allowing herself to be near him. Then she took a finger to his cheek, and traced the smile that had first told her she was before someone different than the mirage that had fooled her what now seemed like ages ago.

He looked at her, motionless, patient, expectant. He stood still as she slowly got closer, letting her lead the way. He tilted his head down, but stopped there; giving her a chance to close the distance herself, at her own pace. Her shaking hands found his shoulders. She slowly closed her eyes. Their breaths mingled, and then she just gave in.

It wasn't a first kiss per se, not exactly; it couldn't be. But it felt like that for Raven. He only then started to respond, moving his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her. One hand buried itself in her hair. Raven let knowledge of millennia guide her through.

Then Raven's powers sprung up and swiped the air around them. They lost their footing and fell on their butts, still embracing. She looked disoriented; he laughed, harder than she'd heard from him since he first appeared. Then they just kept on making out on the ground.

* * *

"This is a good sign," he said, running the fabric of her cloak through his fingers. It was white. Then his hand fell in hers again, and he began absent-mindedly caressing her fingers, in a gesture that felt equal parts new and familiar to Raven. "What are you going to tell your friends?"

She shrugged. "The truth. There's no point in hiding anything anymore."

"That's a relief. Lying is exhausting." His face contorted into a yawn, as if to illustrate his point, and he dropped down on the bed they were laying in. Then he furrowed his eyebrows, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. "Oh. Can I ask you about something that's been bothering me?"

"Sure?"

"What was this… date you went on earlier this week?"

For a second Raven didn't know what he was talking about. When she remembered, it seemed so far away and irrelevant, that it made her laugh. "Starfire set me up with this boy she knew. She just wanted me to go out, and I decided to give it a chance. You knew what a date was?"

"I've picked up enough terms in the last millennia, Raven." He looked up at her, and reached out to push some hair behind her ear. "Tomorrow I'll be pinching myself doubting if this was real." Then he looked bashful. "Would you stay here with me? It's all right if you don't want to."

It took Raven aback how much she had no qualms against spending the night. But she remembered duty. "I'd have to meditate first."

"Now? You won't catch a wink of sleep."

"It won't take as long as that. It's not as much when it's positive emotions," she replied, smiling. And it very much had to be now. She was half mad with happiness and fear and excitement and disbelief; her heart was soaring and her head was reeling, and if she didn't get herself under check soon they would all pay highly for it.

But for the moment she stayed, and let him caress her hair.

"This is the very first time you've chosen me without us gaining our memories first," he said. Raven didn't have to full command of all memories as he must have, but she thought that was most likely true. There wasn't much of a chance to fall for someone entirely before you happened to touch them. "If I ever did doubt we were meant to be, you proved it to me. And after thousands of years of the cycle, I guess I did wonder if you would choose me without knowing our history."

"You still talk of us being meant to be," she pointed out, "But I think we're just two people who happened to continually chose each other every time they've had the chance. I chose _you_. Not our past and our memories— _you_." Her voice got a sardonic tone as she said, "I chose you in paper form, speaking through a paper dragon. That has to count for something."

He laughed along with her, because even his hatred for Malchior had evaporated in his present happiness.

Then he just stopped, and smiled up at her. His black hair draping across the pillow. He looked thoroughly happy, like Raven had never seen him in this life; and seeing him like that, and realizing she was the cause of it, and remembering she was allowing herself to feel it back, was almost too much feeling for her. Old habits kicked in hard, and she sat up on the bed. "I really need to meditate now."

He watched her get up and face the window, her back to him. "Fine, then. I'll let your voice lull me to sleep. And you'll wake me when you're done?"

"I will," she promised, smiling softly at him over her shoulder. With that she sat on the ground and closed her eyes. First she disentangled herself of the notion of him—tried to forget he was right there, close enough to touch. Then she began to work through each of her emotions.

When she next opened her eyes, the moon was higher in the sky, but more than a couple hours couldn't have gone by. She looked back at the sleeping form of Rorek, bathed in pale moonlight. It was almost a shame to wake him. Raven sat on the bed carefully. She brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and his eyes fluttered open.

"Back as promised," she whispered. The sleepy smile he gave her was enough to make her bend down and kiss him. Rorek wrapped his arms around her.

"Come in here," he whispered against her lips. Raven broke apart briefly to unclasp her cloak and send it to a nearby chair, then sunk into the embrace. She fell asleep peaceful, having no notion of the night she had ahead of her.

* * *

There was a full moon surrounded by a ring on the sky the night Rorek left. Some would say it foresaw a storm. She saw plain and clear something much worse.

So she couldn't believe her eyes when she saw him getting into his armor. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "You can't still be thinking of going."

He calmly avoided her eyes as he fastened steel vambraces to his forearms. "Shall you keep guard of the book?"

" _Rorek_."

He looked up. "Lilja. I must go."

"You know as well as I do that moon is a bad omen."

"And you know I have command of the troupe, my lady. I can't be absent."

"The beast is well over three days away from the village. You can afford to delay your mission by one." She followed him into the bedroom as he went to collect his pauldrons. "Tell them the storm mudded the way. Tell them the horse got spooked." She faced him, grabbed his face. "Tell then anything but _stay here tonight_."

He took the hands cupping his face into his own. "My love, the king entrusted a wizard with the defense of his kingdom. Can't you see how important that is? This could change everything. For us, for those after us."

"I don't care for those that come after us! I care for _you_." Her explosion only got her a frown from him as he went on preparing. She swallowed her anger, and remembered to bargain. "Will the entire mission fall apart if you go tomorrow instead of today?"

"Will the moon favor me tomorrow?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. Lilja had been drawn to magic all her life, even before she had found Rorek and remembered who she was. But she didn't have the raw power some of her previous versions had possessed. He knew that well—she could interpret the signs nature gave, but he knew she couldn't predict what the signs would be tomorrow.

"You know I can't know that," she replied, her voice tight.

It was the answer he was expecting. "Then I must go. It is my duty."

She hated the tone of his voice then, like his leaving was inevitable, like the duty was so strong it won over both her warning and what she knew his own intuition must he telling her. "It's not duty. It's your pride and your thirst for glory," she spat. "It's the knowledge that you've done great deeds in the past and the idea that you ought to be able to achieve greatness every lifetime."

With that she left their room, too mad to see him.

But through the door she could hear him continue his preparations. She hadn't swayed him at all, that proud husband of hers. Silently, she took a few leather cords and began to braid them as she recited a protection spell.

When she walked back into the room, he was attempting to fasten his breast plate by himself. He saw her on the doorway, they shared a look, and she moved forward to help him. Then she put the braided necklace around his neck.

When he was all set to go, they stood on the doorway and she stood on her toes to cup his face. "I don't want this to be one of the sad lives, Rorek." Her voice was just a whisper.

He caught her hands in his and bent down to kiss her lips. "Lilja, love of my lives. I'll come back to you. I promise."

He kissed her again, a longer, lingering kiss. It still didn't feel like goodbye.

They untangled reluctantly; he stepped out the door and pulled his scarf over his nose. "Mind the book."

She knew as she watched him go that she wouldn't sleep in order to watch the book, safe in its magic-surrounded atrium until he returned. She was right.

Raven remembered starting in the middle of the night when the book got engulfed in white magic –Rorek's magic- and promptly disappeared. _It's happening_ , she thought. _For better or for worse, he's found the beast, and it got bad enough for him to need the book_.

Three days after, neither Rorek nor the book had returned. Instead, a warrior from his party arrived at her door, and told her Rorek had faced the beast as planned, but they had found nothing in the site of the battle after the smoke had cleared. Neither mage nor dragon; only the traces of a grand battle. Lilja went to the place of battle herself, knowing she would only find the book there. She had brought it home. She had seen her husband reduced to a picture and a voice.

At first the future didn't look as dire. All she had to do was find a spell that would free Rorek without freeing Malchior. All she had to do was ignore the dragon who increasingly took over their conversations.

First, she found that coming across such a spell would be harder than she thought. Then she found that sometimes, when she thought she was talking to Rorek, it was the dragon that took his form and pretended to be him. Days turned into months, and Lilja grew desperate. She would always be a year older than him now, when she managed to get him out. They stopped telling that joke when the year turned to three, then to more. She spent those years traveling, gaining new knowledge, asking favors, and getting disappointed. Talking to him less and less, as it got more unbearable to open the book and try to figure out if she was talking to Rorek or his cruel impersonator.

It enraged her more than anything that she couldn't tell the difference.

Then one day she found herself looking out the window as the rain began to fall over the garden, and she felt the notion envelop her that this was the day she had been waiting for. For a long time she had been suspended in anticipation, as if something inside was telling her what needed to be done. Today seemed about right.

First she bound the book to her soul, so it would find her in every incarnation. Whichever turns it took, it would always go back to her. As she did, she wondered if Rorek could feel her magic, all the way into his cage.

Then it was her turn. As she held the potion in her hands, she found she wasn't even afraid. She was too old, it seemed, and knew herself to be too useless. In any case, the two of them shouldn't be afraid of death more than any person would be afraid of dusk. For them, death was only going to sleep, to wake the next morning in each other's arms. Holding on to that thought, Lilja downed the potion in one swig.

* * *

She woke up on the next life, and the next, and the next, and multiple others, that Raven, in her half-asleep daze, couldn't fathom all together. The book had always been there, the strange white book that couldn't be opened by anyone.

The memories didn't come back—how could they, without Rorek?— nor did the knowledge of what was to be done with the book—only a feeling that there was something missing.

Sometimes she got to touch the book. That was enough to get a feeling of a memory back, an inkling of something, but not enough to understand. It was a turn of mind too hazy to follow, a yearning in the back of her mind that she couldn't place. She must be a melancholic person, she thought every time.

Raven finally opened her eyes, and didn't recognize the room she was in at first. Then she shifted, felt arms around her, and understood. _A nightmare_ , she thought dimly. But a nightmare of things that had really happened.

She turned to bury her face in his chest, escaping the feeling of despair growing in her gut. She wanted to tell him it was unfair. That it had been too sad for too long. What came out was, "I miss you," breathed into his chest.

Her voice made him stir. "Raven?"

Raven didn't answer; she was fast asleep.

* * *

 _OoOOoh so much drama~_

So I've been out of commission from a combination of finals, a vacation trip, and then a stomach bug that took me out for a few days, but now I'm back, so here's this!

The reincarnation spell is based off the meter of Raven's portal prophecy :) Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: Reset

Hello again! Thanks for tuning in, and sorry this chapter took so long!

* * *

 **Chapter 7. Repetition.**

"Are you all right?"

By the time Raven had woken up, Rorek had long been up. He'd been standing looking out the window when she came to. Now, as she sat up in bed, shaking off the drowsiness, he looked at her in poorly concealed worry.

"Too many memories," she said simply, still ordering her thoughts.

"I know," he replied. But the question still stood. He, who knew her best, could tell there was something more going on.

Raven massaged her temples slowly. "I always had your spell book," she said. It was one way to start.

"Okay?"

"I mean _always_. Lilja bound it to her soul. It was always there, through all my lives." His eyes widened at the mention of Lilja, and some understanding began to dawn in his eyes. "But I could never open it. I don't know why."

"I think I know why," he said slowly. For a while he didn't say anything else. It seemed like he was coming to terms with something, or like he wanted to delay some realization as much as he could. "I felt a spell of that kind being wrought upon the book. And I felt Malchior twist it. I remember him saying it. _But no one white mage shall be able to open it_."

"Oh," said Raven. What else was there to say? That part of their story was too far in the past. She was only upset about it because she had dreamed it. "The witch who let you out must have been grey at best."

"Mmh," he agreed distractedly.

"And I sort of _am_ dark magic."

"I remember," he replied.

Raven mulled on this, amazed. If she hadn't been who she was… would Rorek have ever gotten out of the book? She almost wanted to laugh. Had she ever been glad of her demonic heritage? _Ever_? She was pretty sure this was the very first time it had done something good for her.

In front of her, Rorek was having the opposite development. He looked more distraught by the second.

"You mean you were out there all along?" he asked quietly, causing Raven to sober up. "While I lived in that book, you were just… out there, living your lives?"

"Lilja hoped her reincarnation would get you out, but…"

"Without me, you didn't get the memories back," he finished.

"I never knew what to do." She said it almost as an apology.

He must have felt the apology in her voice, because he raised his hand and cupped the side of her face, twisting his fingers in her hair. He stroked her temple with his thumb for a while. Then he dropped his hand, his face contorting in confusion again. "But… when I felt that spell it had been years since she last opened the book. I… I didn't want to let myself think it was her."

"I'm sorry she didn't open the book anymore," Raven began.

"No, I understand why. I remember what it was like. It's just… I really thought she had moved on."

"She never stopped trying to free you, Rorek."

His emotions felt equal parts anguished and grateful. The opposing feelings fought in his face and in his aura. Then it seemed the negative side won out, and he frowned. "How many years did she spend trying to free me? How long did she put her life on hold to pursue a hopeless enterprise?"

Raven resigned herself to telling him the truth. "All of her life. Towards the end, she… stepped aside so her descendant could do what she couldn't."

He got her meaning. His face blanched, and he tore his eyes away from her. She knew he was mad; he had never seen eye to eye on with that pragmatic streak of hers. Nothing she could say would convince him it had been the better option, so she let him rein in his anger.

When he spoke again, it was with fierceness. "So you lived in misery and then ended your own life. I'm beginning to think I thought you had abandoned me because that's what I'd rather you had done."

"Would you have abandoned me?" she asked calmly.

He didn't answer. He glowered at nothing, making himself feel every bit of the misguided guilt he thought he deserved.

 _It doesn't matter_ , she wanted to tell him. _That's the past_ _, let's look to the future_. The words caught in her throat, because suddenly they were all wrong. Raven felt an abrupt clarity that made her dizzy. The realization was so horrible that at first she wanted to repel it, but it was so huge and certain that it only toppled over her.

The memories of their past lives didn't come all together; the veils covering her knowledge of Rorek came off unevenly. She was only now seeing what should have been plain to see to any of her previous selves. There was no place for doubt, because _she had seen this picture before_.

Him, so bent on not letting himself forget what he has lost; torturing himself over where he perceived he had failed, and it not letting him enjoy what he had.

It would never be alright for him. Just like he had been tormented by his failure to protect the Nazarenes, he would always be haunted by having abandoned Lilja. Raven could get over it and look to this one life, but he never would.

He finally met her eyes, grabbed her hand and kissed it, holding on to it like a lifeline, looking as sad as he had when she had first met him in this life. Then he noticed the odd look in her eyes. "What is it?"

She heard herself saying, "It doesn't have to be like this, Rorek."

"What do you mean?" But she could tell he already knew— she could hear the fear in his voice. "Raven…"

"There's an obvious solution. One I already told you about…-"

"No." He shook his head resolutely. "Don't even say it."

"You have to go back to Lilja."

He looked at her stunned—betrayed that she had said it. "No," he said when he found his voice. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to abandon you."

"It's the only way to make things right."

"For whom? Not for _you_."

She hesitated. "For me, too. If you go, the reincarnation cycle has to resume."

"You can't know it will work out as neatly as that," he argued, pressing her hand in urgency. "Even if it works, who's to say it'll be easy? What if the version of me from this time takes his time arriving? What if I leave you well and truly alone, and with the knowledge of what you're missing?"

"It will be nowhere near what you've endured," she pointed out.

"Never mind that now. We're talking about you."

 _No_ , thought Raven. _If I_ _thought of myself_ _, I'd never let you leave_.

"Knowing you could go back and choosing not to will rue at you," she argued. "I know you, Rorek. You will never be happy thinking you've abandoned Lilja."

"And if I go back, I'll be abandoning _you_ ," he said with finality, and she had nothing to disprove that. She deflated, and his eyes softened. "So let me stay. Listen to me. We've had all sort of lives. You remember that now, don't you? Some of them have ended in tragedy. We have always started the next one with all the hope in the world. We can do the same now, surely. Why can't we just… vow to move on and live our lives from now on?"

 _He really wants to stay_ , she realized. He was so earnest that her resolve all but faded. Perhaps it _was_ cruel to send him away, she thought. Even if he reached Lilja, he would make himself miserable wondering if the cycle really had restarted, or if he'd just left Raven alone. A big part of her was beginning to be swayed. She was too scared it was just the selfish part of her talking.

Raven untangled their hands and looked away from him. She thought of Samson, and how after he and Delilah had walked out of the house, he had convinced the first guard who saw them that Delilah was turning him in. He had only pretended to accept Delilah's decision that they both should die. Inside, he'd been thinking of how to go over her head, in one last desperate attempt to spare her, and she had been too stunned at the moment to keep him from it.

Raven felt hollow. She knew what she had to do.

She faced Rorek. "One time, Starfire went into the future through a time machine. She came back and changed the present in a way that altered the future forever, and eliminated the timeline she had been in." She took his hands. "If you go back, you _will_ restart the cycle. You see? You wouldn't be abandoning either of us, you'd be saving us both. And all of us in between. But if you stay here, knowing you could have returned, you'll come to regret it. Make memory. You know how this ends, and you know I know it too. You'll be miserable over the path you didn't take."

"…And tie you to a miserable man," he finished, in a slow, bitter voice. "Again."

He sat still for a few moments. Then he let go of her hands, stood, and went to the window. He stood there for a while, watching the city.

When he came back to her, he said, "I spent so long waiting to come out of that book. I finally am where I've wanted to be for the last thousand years." He shook his head, biting his lip. "And I know I've spent more time with you than without you. I had more than my own short life with you. But all the lives we had together still pale in the face of the years I spent trapped. They are the bulk of _my_ life, Raven. I feel like I've only had you for the blink of an eye. And now you want to send me away again?" His voice broke. "What if I don't find you? What if it doesn't work? What if it's not _right_?"

She grabbed his face and brought his forehead to hers. "Go back to Lilja and live a long beautiful life," she whispered. "Go be happy and forget that book ever happened. Let me worry about here and now. You'll find me, or I'll find you. Like we always do."

She held him until she felt him start nodding against her head, and her own heart sank at his acquiescence.

"Give me one day," he told her. "Just the two of us. Just one day pretending we have the rest of our lives ahead of us. So if anything goes wrong, God forbid, I'll have one perfect memory to carry me through another thousand years."

* * *

And so they did. Raven and Rorek spent that day in the forest in front of the Tower, well out of sight of the city and the people. Raven left her communicator behind—if her friends needed her, they could blow up the alarm in her medallion. They both found they were hungry after deciding their fates, so Raven opened a portal directly into the fridge and they grabbed some fruit, cheese and juice. Someone had bought bagels that morning and left some on the counter, so she decided to introduce those to Rorek. She could explain everything to her friends later.

Their conversation that day shunned their other lives, and limited itself to the present one. Nothing else existed but her and him—no other version, location, or time.

It was a desperate attempt to cram an eternity into a day, and it was over before they knew it. By the time the sun set they were back inside the tower, preparing the spell in Raven's room. A moment ago Rorek had still been holding her close, saying "Five more minutes…" again and again.

Raven easily located the same book that had aided her when Cyborg was lost in the past, while Rorek prepared the magic circle. Neither of them spoke now.

She knew she should meditate before working a spell like that, but everything in her body rebelled against delaying this anymore than it was necessary. She didn't want to look at her own thoughts and face her own decision. She didn't want to have to convince herself to let him go all over again—or worse, having to convince him.

She broke the silence only when she had to. "I'm sending you to a year after you fought Malchior. Give Lilja time to write the book."

He looked like he was going to say something, but changed his mind and only nodded.

When she was all set to begin the spell, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. She closed her eyes and basked in his warmth, letting herself go for one last moment.

Maybe this was going to be what she remembered him by.

"I have no regrets," he told her, cradling her face. "I got to meet you twice, fall in love with you twice. Who else can say that?" He managed a smile, and she could do nothing but return it.

She opened the portal without focusing on him. It opened as a tear in the middle of her room. Out of it came a sort of light that suggested daylight; specks of green grass could be seen by moments. She was sending him back to a small house tucked away in a valley, with a garden full of herbs that she remembered well. He looked at the portal, then back at her. "I love you," he said simply, barely audible over the noise.

"I love you too."

It was the first time she said those words aloud in this life.

He stepped backwards towards the portal, looking at her like he wanted to commit her face to memory; he didn't take his eyes away from hers as the portal swallowed him, and promptly closed.

The unearthly wind died down, and the light faded, letting the room return to dark.

And then came the silence, all-encompassing and heartbreaking. Raven was still staring at the spot where Rorek had been, when reality began to come away at the seams.

She felt it before anything else—the sense that something was wrong. Then she saw the darkness. Whipping her head around, she saw more and more dark patches cropping up everywhere, revealing a nothingness beyond. Raven couldn't even identify _what_ it was –space? Another dimension?- as it overpowered her room.

She tried throwing her powers at it—she formed the words of her chant with her mouth, but never heard herself saying them, before the darkness swallowed her too.

* * *

Raven felt the pounding headache before she was fully awake. Opening her eyes, she wondered why the view of her ceiling seemed odd, and a moment later she realized she was laying not on her bed, but on the middle of her floor.

She sat up abruptly as the events came back to her, and then began to look around her room methodically. _Right_ , she thought, _the Tower's still standing_. Everything looked normal, not as if it had been recently swallowed up by nondescript darkness. Perhaps she had overexerted herself with the spell and blacked out, briefly hallucinating right before she did so.

Or perhaps she had wiped out an entire timeline and altered the present beyond belief.

A knock came on her door, and Raven realized that must have been what woke her. _And I seem to still have friends who care enough to bother me. Good_. She stood, dusted herself off and took a few deep breaths before she opened the door. On the other side were Robin, Cyborg and Starfire.

Robin and Star did a double take when they saw her, and Cyborg took in the sight of her and looked livid. Raven looked down and felt like kicking herself—of course, she was still wearing white.

"Raven this is an intervention," stated Cyborg.

No sooner had he finished the declaration than Star sprung up with one of her own, "I do not agree with the purpose of this meeting, but am merely here to mediate."

Raven was too busy looking at the three of them. _Three out of four_. "Where's Beast Boy?" she asked, gripped by a sudden fear.

"Um, he said he didn't want to be part of this," Robin informed, looking himself like didn't want to be here. "Why?"

"No reason," replied Raven, deeply relieved. "Now, what is this intervention about?"

"I-I wouldn't call it an intervention," said Robin, ignoring Cyborg's glare. "It's just… well, we're concerned. About you and… Bertram. You see… Cy told us… a-and now I see for myself," he gestured at her ensemble in general. "I mean, we're slightly worried, 'cause, um…"

Raven felt satisfied they remembered 'Bertram'—if she had truly destroyed a timeline then at least she hadn't changed that much. She struggled to remember where in the narrative she had left her friends. Was this all because of the kitchen scene Cyborg had walked in on?

Cyborg watched Robin stutter and decided to overthrow him. "Raven, we traced your communicator yesterday and it was in _his_ room. For the entire day."

Oh. … _Oh_.

"This was after we knocked on your door and you didn't answer, and we hadn't seen either of you all day," Robin quickly added.

"Look it's not our place to judge, we know that," Cyborg started, sounding like he had already judged _and_ found them guilty. He caught himself, cleared his throat, and went on in a softer tone, "But we just don't think it's wise for you to get, y'know, all white-cloaky for a guy you just _met_."

"I believe…-" Starfire started, and promptly cut herself off when Raven chuckled, bringing everything to a halt.

"Uh, Raven? You okay?" Robin asked.

"Sorry, I just…" Raven stopped herself for their sake, but couldn't keep the smile off her face. _A guy you just met_. It was too absurd. "You better tell Beast Boy to come up to the common room. I have a lot to tell you guys."

* * *

Raven told her friends the whole story—all of it, starting three thousand years ago.

The titans listened respectfully, and at first even kept up with the story. But by the time she arrived at the events of that morning, they were simply staring at her in a mix of amazement and emotional exhaustion.

Beast Boy was the first to recover. "… _Dude_. That was all kinds of epic."

"Wait, so—wait," Cyborg started. "I have lots of questions."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Star. "What happened to the lady Oriel? How was she able to appease the king and marry the knight?"

"I was talking about the fact that it sounds as if you eliminated a timeline and the world as we know it is still standing," clarified Cyborg. "Do you have any idea what that means for our knowledge of time travel?"

"Can we talk about the reincarnation part?" Robin asked. "Like the fact that it's a thing that really happens? Is this something you knew beforehand because… it's kind of a game-changer for a bunch of religions."

Raven massaged her temples. "Star, I'll tell you the whole story later. _Way_ later. I did learn a bunch on time travel, Cyborg, and Robin—there is a hell, but no heaven. You can ask me more questions later, but for now…"

Robin agreed. "You're right. That's enough for now. You should rest."

"We didn't learn new things about time travel, Cy," Beast Boy argued, honoring Raven's wish of there being no further discussion by talking in a lower voice. "She used the same portallin' she used to get you back from the past."

"Yeah, but that was different," Cyborg replied. "When I came back, Rae already had the book that talked about what I did, so I was always gonna go back in time and change things up."

"So? This is the same exact thing! Rorek's reincarnation hasn't come around because Rae hadn't sent the old one back yet, but she was always gonna send the old one back in time so the new one could come around. It's still a stable time loop." He took in his friends gawking at him in surprise and responded with an insulted voice, "Dudes, I'm one with sci-fi, _helloo_!"

"How are you not more surprised by this?" Cyborg asked him. "Our pal _Bertie_ was the wizard from the book! You do realize that, right?"

Beast Boy stopped, scratched his neck, and looked sheepish. "Ha! You know weird things happen to us all the time!"

Raven narrowed her eyes at him. "You _are_ surprisingly nonchalant."

Beast Boy saw Raven's suspicious look, and flashed a grin at her, putting his arms down. "After last time… I was waiting for you to tell us."

The other three turned to him.

"You _knew_?" Robin asked, sounding amazed, unsettled, and a little wounded in his pride. "How did you find out?"

Beast Boy shrugged. "I never forget a voice. It took me like a day to realize where I remembered it from. And by then, I knew you wouldn't want to make a big fuss about it," he told Raven.

"So you thought it was the same guy who destroyed the tower and tried to kill us?" she asked.

"Yeah, but, I trust you, Rae. I figured you had things under control."

Raven granted him a smile. She was about to make her exit –her head was reeling, she was physically and emotionally worn out, and she had seldom in her life needed meditation as much as she did right then-, but Beast Boy stopped her. "But hey, I'm right, right? He got reincarnated, so he's gonna show up here."

Raven stopped. They were all staring at her. "I don't know," she admitted. Her friends looked taken aback at this. But then, thought Raven, she'd had more time to come to terms with what she had done.

"But…" made Beast Boy.

"A loop isn't the only kind of time phenomenon there is." Raven looked at Starfire, who looked like she was beginning to understand. Raven guessed she was remembering her own experience. "Starfire. When you traveled to the future, you saw an alternate future where we'd disbanded. By coming back, you changed that future for us, but…"

"There is still a reality where we are all apart," Star finished.

"And there might be at least one reality where there's no Rorek in the present," said Robin.

"Wait, what? No. Didn't Cy just say you probably deleted a timeline?" protested Beast Boy.

"It doesn't mean we're in a new one," Raven replied. "I sent Rorek back. I remember sending him back. You all remember him being here. So how can we be in a new timeline?"

"But—Star remembers going to the future and back, and she…-!" Beast Boy made out, before Robin laid a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off. Raven took it as her cue that she was allowed to leave.

Still, as soon as she went through the doors, she heard her friends start discussing the issue again. She paid no mind to it and went upstairs, to come to terms with the whole experience like she said she'd do.

She hadn't been lying to Rorek, not completely. His going back _would_ restart the cycle. She just hadn't been completely honest about the fact that she wasn't sure that would affect _her_ in any way. She hadn't told him that back when Star had changed the future, Raven had been on the flipside of that change. She had been in the past, on the point at which timelines diverged. Now she was still in the present she herself had changed. Who knew whether she wasn't currently occupying a timeline with no Rorek, because she had sent him back—and he would die and his soul would be reborn, but it would never catch up with this Raven, here and now?

But she couldn't think about that right now. Her hands still felt the warmth of his own in them; his voice still sounded in her ears all too clearly.

Perhaps Rorek had been right. Perhaps the memory of one perfect day could last a lifetime. Perhaps it would be enough. Perhaps it would simply need to be.


	8. Epilogue

I can't believe this story's done! If you've made it this far—hi! Thanks for reading! Please leave a review telling me what you think if you can and want to!

* * *

 **Epilogue.**

About a month later, the book came back.

Apparently, it had been left behind in the warehouse where they had fought the Brotherhood of Evil. The French press had discovered it and held onto it for a while, but they ended up deciding it had no connection to the battle and let go of it. It had wound up in a second-hand bookstore, where it was bought by a collector, and eventually resold in America—to Raven's favorite antique book store.

The same bookstore where she had found it the first time around.

 _Bound to me by magic_ , she thought when she found it, her fingertips brushing across the white leathery cover. _It will always come back to me, no matter the turns it takes._ She had bought it and taken it home all over again.

Just for kicks, she re-read it.

For a long time, after Malchior happened and before Rorek turned up, she had theorized that she'd felt so drawn to the book because it oozed magic. Now she knew the real reason she'd gotten so hooked on the words—they were her own.

As she held it now, empty for the first time in millennia, she could perfectly remember writing it. If she closed her eyes, she saw herself in the middle of it—with Rorek trapped inside, and Malchior meddling with her writing and messing with her head.

She could remember other things, too. She remembered Ansel proudly telling his comrades to go back without him, that he was staying in Vanlanz, the day after Oriel changed the course of the river so it wouldn't flood the capital ever again. She remembered the day Lilja met Rorek; how he'd helped her off a carriage and she'd nearly fallen over when their hands touched. She remembered the life after Samson and Delilah, where they met as children; the first time they knew it had worked.

If she had nothing else, she had this. Memories.

" _I got to meet you twice, fall in love with you twice,_ " Rorek had said to her on their last day. " _Who else can say that?_ "

 _Me_ , thought Raven. _If life was fair_.

A knock on her door interrupted her musings.

"Rae?" Beast Boy said through the door. "We're going off to the pizza place now. You're still coming, right?"

"Be right there," she returned.

Pizza was the hook her friends used to coax her out of the Tower. Lately it had gotten into their heads that she needed to get out—and maybe they were right, who knew. Raven could only guess what they thought of her by now. For a girl who prided herself on reserve and self-control, her romances sure seemed to be dramatic, all the way down to their short-livedness.

She usually agreed to go out with them, because she suspected if she didn't, someone –probably Beast Boy- would soon resort to drastic measures the force her out of her room. Saying yes was an act of self-preservation.

However, as they were eating, trouble decided to happen. Robin had tensed up when the first police car raced by. He didn't say anything, but the rest of the team knew that look in his face, and began to rush their meal just in case. When two more police cars dashed by, Cyborg asked for the check. By the time they got the call, they were ready to sprint to action.

To their amazement, and because all stories must come to an end, it turned out to be the witch hunters. Even Robin had stopped expecting them at that point.

The hunters had decided to attack the police precinct where their companions were held. And Raven had been so sure they would keep targeting magic users; she was glad she hadn't bet Robin anything on it. The police had managed to immobilize a portion of them, by which Raven guessed their magic-repelling talisman probably wouldn't work against actual bullets. Remembering the last time she'd gone against them, she used telekinesis and patience to bring the enemies down.

They were nearly subdued when an explosion came from around the building—but a quick head count told Raven all her friends were in other places of the battlefield, which baffled her. The hunters could only repel energy. Could one of them have used an actual bomb to try and get in the station?

Going around the corner, she saw them: two hunters advancing on a group of three teenagers. She snuck up behind the foes and knocked their heads together, taking them out. Then she turned to the kids, ready to deliver a scolding on civilians meddling in superhero business, and the world slid to a stop around her.

There was a boy who had fallen on the pavement, and two more around him trying pull him up. All three froze in place when Raven turned to them.

But the boy on the ground she knew in an instant. She had never seen him before. He had jet black hair, pulled back and pushing past his shoulders, longer than hers. A bulky scarf all but covered his mouth and nose. Icy blue eyes with specks of yellow locked into hers when they felt her gaze.

Raven breathed in deep relief. Of all things, she felt peace.

The boy's friends edged slowly backwards in contained fear and amazement when the most elusive titan pulled down her hood and began to walk towards him.

"You okay?" she asked the boy. She could barely keep from smiling.

The boy nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, I… They told me this town had superheroes, but…" He trailed off. Raven could tell he was trying not to stare, but at the same time he couldn't help it. She remembered what that déjà vu felt like. He was probably telling himself he only felt like he knew her because he'd seen her on TV a bunch of times. "I'm not from here," he finally made out. "I'm only here 'cause I missed my train back."

 _Of course you did_. A zany coincidence sounded about right for them.

He grabbed self-consciously at his scarf, as his pale cheeks colored. Raven guessed he was kicking himself over having fallen down. Maybe he was wishing he'd tried harder on whatever spell he'd pulled to resist the enemies. She would have to tell him all that didn't matter. But first things first.

"Here." She reached her hand out. "Let me help you up."

He complied, not taking his eyes off her as he reached out to grab her hand.

Then their fingers touched.

 _ **The End**_


End file.
